


Tales From Beast Island

by TypoShifter (Weezelness)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Family Feels, Memory Magic, Original Character(s), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weezelness/pseuds/TypoShifter
Summary: Five years have gone by since Adora was promoted to Force Captain. The Horde and the Rebellion are at a standstill. Shadow Weaver’s attempts at guiding her are a lesson in futility and Hordak’s impatience is getting dangerous. There’s a fundamental wrongness that hangs in the air and Adora can’t put her finger on why. If only Catra were there. She still doesn’t know what happened to her best friend, and there’s something the others aren’t telling her.





	1. Force Captain Adora

* * *

When Catra had enough wherewithal to recognize sensation, she felt her body engulfed in pain. Inside her chest were mangled lungs and a heart that pounded against her skull, wailing mercilessly on her brain. The light that invaded her eyelids and the irritating chirping of birds lit her senses on fire and she groaned.  
  
She didn’t know how many days had passed since Hordak had suffocated her to unconsciousness, but she knew that it was a stroke of providence—whether divine or demonic remained to be seen—that she was still alive.  
  
“Where am I?” She asked, croaking into the air. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and even her tongue had dried in her mouth. She was terribly dehydrated.  
  
Demonic providence it was—barely awake and she was already at death’s doorstep.  
  
She would have laughed if she had the strength. She would have been angry if she had the energy. Presently, she didn’t have either, and that gaping hole of nothingness inside her soul couldn’t help but fill with a twisted sense of gratitude. There was an end to the suffering. Maybe it was divine after all.  
  
In the stillness of her being, thoughts that she’d done well to avoid found their foothold and flitted about like tiny flames.  
  
Catra thought about Adora, and where she could be now. Instinct still called out to her for help, even if logic dictated it as a lesson in futility. She’d left so easily, like the flip of a coin. It baffled Catra she ever depended on her at all.  
  
Catra thought about Shadow Weaver, how her disappearance had been the death sentence that landed Catra where she lay now, squinting against painfully bright foliage. The old woman would finally get her wish, to be rid of the girl who wanted nothing but her approval.  
  
Catra thought about Hordak, and how short her stint as second in command had been. She’d made such great strides. Adora could disapprove all she wanted, but Catra had gotten the Horde closer to victory than anyone else. No one could say that she didn’t have a talent for plans and tactics. Why wasn’t that enough? She thought she was finally getting things right.  
  
Catra thought about others; Scorpia and what she would do when she found out Catra had been shipped to…where ever this hell hole was (though she had one educated guess), Entrapta and her work with Hordak—Catra hoped the kooky scientist wouldn’t be discarded as callously as her. She thought about Lonnie. She thought about Kyle. She thought about Rogelio. She thought about the many many soldiers that littered the metallic walls of the Fright Zone.  
  
Each thought burnt holes into her brain and widened the emptiness that threatened to engulf her. She ached to embrace it and closed her eyes. She could sleep, and maybe this time, it could be her that did the leaving.  
  
She’d gotten acclimated to the pain enough to distinguish the individual noises that rushed into her ears, the wind across the branches, the blue jay and it’s mate, a woodpecker, and a babbling brook…  
  
A brook?  
  
Catra’s ears angled towards the distinctive sound of gushing water. It was close. If she could make it, then she knew she could survive for a little while longer.  
  
She grunted.  
  
It shouldn’t have been a question. Somewhere in her beaten, broken body, there was just enough fuel to make it. There had to be. Catra was never the type to give up, but the thought began to slip between the burnt edges of her mind.  
  
With a sigh, she pushed the thoughts away, an act that was surprisingly more difficult than twisting her body until she could push up on her elbows and knees. Though that was agony too, like every torn muscle, burn, and scrape coalesced into a single entity. It rested squarely against Catra’s form like a hot skillet. She pushed past it until she was on her knees. Panting and barely conscious, she began to crawl towards the gurgling of the brook.

~

“Force Captain!”  
  
Adora whipped her head towards the sound. She saw Kyle at a dead sprint, the bow of a rebel soldier aimed at his retreating form. On instinct, Adora lunged at his feet, tripping him and causing the arrow to wiz harmlessly above them.  
  
“Let’s go!” Adora heaved the boy to his feet and practically dragged him behind a boulder. “What is it, Kyle?” She snapped. Her patience was thin, worsened by a suspicion that she already knew what Kyle needed to say.  
  
A boom rattled the earth beneath them and Adora could see the massive green vines that rocketed upward—Horde soldiers tangled into the messy heap—from the meager cover of the bolder.  
  
“The princesses have incapacitated more than 70% of our troops. I don’t know how much longer we can hold them off.”  
  
“Casualties?”  
  
“None sir, but they are taking prisoners.”  
  
Adora grit her teeth. Even if she predicted it, it was still a hard kick in the gut to know that another mission had failed, but there was nothing for it now. She needed to act fast before more Horde soldiers were taken away. “Tell all the troops to fall back to the Fright Zone. We’re done here.”  
  
Kyle did a salute and ran off, barely missed by another arrow. It was almost captivating to watch. _Luck is definitely on his side,_ she thought. She took off in a run towards her waiting skiff while grabbing her communicator from her belt. “All troops fall back! I repeat all troops fall back! Now!”  
  
There was a flash of pink and all of a sudden, she was careening down over a pink haired, pink clothed, pink everythinged woman. She grabbed Adora by the torso. Before Adora could even register what was happening, she was flipping to toss the princess over her hip. She fell with a hard thud.  
  
“Glimmer!” The bowman, tan skinned and curly haired, raced towards them.  
  
The princess was dazed enough that she didn’t think to grab Adora again, but she still called loud enough to make her pause. “Adora wait!”  
  
The bowman had reached the princess. They huddled together, looking at her with their wide eyes and concerned expressions.  
  
There was a pull on Adora’s mind, a recollection of something familiar, but oh so distant, like a fraying thread.  
  
Another bang echoed across the battlefield, and an icicle, the size of a great oak, sprung from the ground several feet away. With it, the thread that yanked on Adora’s mind broke, and she turned, back into her sprint. She didn’t even dare think back on the events until she was closer to the Fright Zone than the Whispering Wood.  
  
Another battle ended just like it had ended for the past five years since she became Force Captain. Another tie. Another stalemate. Another defeat.  
  
Adora cursed. There would be a reckoning when Shadow Weaver got the report. And then, there would be another one when she had to report to Hordak. She also had to count the soldiers that hadn’t made it and face the ones that did. She didn’t know which pill held the most bitter emotion. They all seemed keen on splitting her into four anxious quadrants.  
  
“Gods damn it!” She pushed the skiff faster, the terrain a blur of colors beneath her. When the hanger finally came in sight, her mind was in such a state that she almost ran right into it. Thankfully, she had just enough time to come to a grinding halt. As soon as she was able, she jumped out and began power walking away. She did a shoddy park job, she knew, but she needed to breathe, just for a little bit, before she interacted with anyone. If she didn’t, there was a likely chance she would cry, stutter, or stumble. None of those options were thought of highly in the Horde, and she was starkly aware of her own dwindling reputation already.  
  
Whisperings in the walls of the Fright Zone tended to echo, no matter how quiet they thought they were being. In fact, they tended to amplify the quieter you tried to be. It had been nice when she was Adora the cadet, the top of the class, the responsible one, the promising soldier. It was less nice as Adora the Force Captain, the losing streak leader, the idiot strategist, the brainless captain.  
  
Her heavy footsteps shifted in tone as she stepped on a familiar balcony. The creaking of the grates under her feet were an immediate comfort, finally allowing herself a shaky breath. She leaned against the rusted guard rail and quietly allowed herself to weep. It was routine by now. After every failed mission, when the reality of her uselessness pressed on her, she couldn’t help but break a little more each time. The moments between each break seemed shorter and shorter, and with no one to put her back together, she was on the fast track to falling apart.  
  
If only Catra were there.  
  
Catra.  
  
Maybe it would have been different if they were together, someone to watch her back and tell her she was being stupid before she acted on it. Being force captain was not all it was cracked up to be, but if they were together, exploring the world, and planning missions just like they planned in their childhood, maybe it would be different. Maybe it would have been better.  
  
So, where in Etheria was she?!  
  
The quiet sobs evolved into an angry yell. Adora reeled, leaning back to give a mighty kick to the guard rail. It snapped at two rusted hinges and the top bar hurled to the ground, circling in the air as it arced away and down.  
  
She heard a feral hiss to her left, and her heart nearly dropped out of her stomach.  
  
“Catra?”  
  
The cat just stared back at her, displaying irritation to a disturbingly human degree.  
  
“Oh, sorry,” she apologized before catching herself. “Not that you can understand, because you’re a cat.”  
  
The tiny creature was actually more of a kitten, and it’s golden eyes stared at her with curiosity.  
  
Adora knelt towards it, stretching out a hand to beckon the creature over. “It’s okay,” she called. “I won’t hurt you.”  
  
The kitten slowly approached, keeping its head bowed, its tiny nose twitching, sniffing the air between them for any hint of ill intent. Eventually, the kitten was right at Adora’s waiting hand. It took one whiff, two whiffs, then nuzzled its cheek against the side of her palm. It rumbled with deep purrs and Adora’s heart melted at the sight.  
  
“You know something,” she said, turning her hand over to gently caress the furry ears on its head, “you look a lot like an old friend.” Adora trailed her hand down to the soft scruff of her neck where long strands of fur puffed out in wild angles. “Or maybe frenemy, if I want to believe Shadow Weaver. Catra has this wild mane of hair too. Your coloring is a little darker, but maybe you guys are related.” Adora laughed to herself at the thought. “I should call you Catra jr.”  
  
The kitten seemed to mewl in protest, looking up from under Adora’s hand.  
  
“Yeah, I know. I suck at names.”  
  
Adora moved to the bottom of the kitten’s chin and the mewls went back to contented purrs. The kitten lifted its head, granting Adora better access under its furry neck.  
  
“You even like getting petted in the same places.” Adora smiled sadly. “Or maybe I miss her so much I’m being delusional.”  
  
The kitten didn’t acknowledge her pondering, lost in Adora’s gentle ministrations.  
  
“You know, I still don’t know what happened to her,” she contemplated. “They said she put me in a coma before disappearing, and that’s why I can’t remember some things.” Adora shook her head, her face twisting in incredulity. “But that doesn’t sound right. I can’t help feeling like there’s something I’m missing, something the others aren’t telling me. Anytime I get close, it just disappears again like so much smoke. I don’t know what to do, Catra,” she paused before adding, “ jr.”  
  
The kitten finally opened its eyes and stared at Adora. The irises were almost luminescent in the darkness, and Adora couldn’t help feeling slightly unnerved. She retracted her hand, holding it to her chest.  
  
The kitten gave a soft meow before crouching. It wiggled its tail in the air and leaped from the guard rail to a ventilation shaft. With a final look, the kitten jumped on the highest point on the roof, disappearing out of sight.  
  
Adora watched it go, the anxiety that disappeared at the cat’s arrival, slamming back into her at its departure.  
  
She took another calming breath before retreating back into the cold halls. Shadow Weaver was probably already looking for her.

~

After Catra found the brook, she dunked her head and gulped the liquid down like honied elixir. It had a wonderful effect on her constitution, but only enough to assure she’d wake up again when she’d fallen asleep. She still felt weak and water only did so much to heal someone who was otherwise exposed to the elements. Already a stiff breeze was passing across her sweat soaked body as the sky deepened into a light purple hue.  
  
No one can say I didn’t try, she thought. There was no way she was able to move more than a few feet, much less gather supplies, and she was still so tired. She didn’t know it was possible to be this tired after just waking up but, gods, did her body ache. With little else to do, she gave in to her compulsion and slept.  
  
Her mind began to wander to the few happy memories she had in her mind. So deep was her delusion, she would even swear that a blue-eyed blondie had picked her up and started carrying her, ever so gently into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only fixed spelling and word choice. There's no major changes.
> 
> For anyone curious about that gorgeous picture, it's from Magic the Gathering, the card called Rootbound Crag. I'll probably be drawing more inspiration from them. They just have such amazing art.


	2. Almost Familiar

* * *

The talk with Shadow Weaver was every bit as horrible as Adora thought it would be.  
  
And then some.  
  
All the years seemed to melt until she was nothing but a cadet trainee again, unable to look up from the floor. One major difference, however, was the distinct lack of gentle head pats or sickeningly sweet words. Shadow Weaver had upgraded to just plain sickening, with an added flavor of venom.  
  
She’d exploded on Adora with a flurry of shadowy tendrils, encroaching on her from every side as she towered above her. “When did I raise such a weak, useless strain?”  
  
Adora wondered how Catra had stood up to such intimidation back when she was still there. Adora was shaking so much, she could barely formulate a response. She looked up into Shadow Weaver’s masked face. “I’m s-sorry.”  
  
“Save your sniveling for someone else.”  
  
Adora’s mouth instantly shut with a click of her teeth, and her eyes shot back to the ground. In her periphery, she noticed the shadows lightening and shrinking into normal shapes.  
  
“Tell me, Force Captain, why your strike team was equipped with stun batons and flash bombs, while the armory blasters and grenades remained untouched?”  
  
Heaving a breath, Adora steeled herself. “The Rebellion hasn’t killed any soldiers. They resort to incapacitating and capture, but they don’t kill.”  
  
“And that influenced your decision.”  
  
Shadow Weaver’s flat tone caused Adora to waver. She had no reply that wasn’t already evident by the circumstance.  
  
“You naive fool.” Shadow Weaver shook her head. “I see that my lessons have not conditioned you to think like a true officer in your station. Your misplaced sense of honor will be the downfall of the Horde, and I’ve delayed this decision long enough. You’ve been an embarrassing disappointment, Adora. Starting tonight, you’ll return to the cadet barracks. You have no place in a Force Captain’s quarters.”  
  
Adora’s eyes widened. “No, please!” She fell to a knee, bowing deep before Shadow Weaver who flinched at the sight. “Please! I understand where I went wrong. I can correct it. One more mission. I’ll take down the Whispering Wood. We can take down Bright Moon once and for all.”  
  
“Bold claims. What makes you think you have what it takes to do this?”  
  
“You told me that I’ve come close before. You told me that I’ve brought the Horde closer to victory than anyone else. If I’ve done it once, I can do it again.”  
  
Shadow Weaver hadn’t responded right away, and when she did, she drew out her words as if they quarreled with another contradicting thought. “Yes, that’s what I’ve said.”  
  
Adora finally looked up. “I don’t remember how I did it, but if I can find out and recreate the circumstance…”  
  
“…then the Rebellion will surely have a response. Their attack force was not as it once was. They’ve grown, and implementing an outdated battle maneuver will do nothing. You will not be marching on the Whispering Woods again. Do I make myself clear?”  
  
This was it. The complete annihilation of what she’d worked for her entire life. She should have seen this coming. Except for the first year—the year that escaped her memory—she’d been flubbing up being a Force Commander. Of course, she would be demoted. “Yes, Shadow Weaver.” Adora slumped, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her shame.  
  
Shadow Weaver regarded Adora, wretched and crestfallen. Her eyes narrowed and she sighed. “You will be marching on Erlandia, leading the third battalion. You will draw them out like the rats they are, do you understand?”  
  
Adora blinked and looked up. “You’re letting me stay as Force Captain?  
  
Shadow Weaver began to drift towards Adora again, getting in her face with a glare, hardly muted by her mask. “One more chance and you will not fail me. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Shadow Weaver.”  
  
“Good. Now go. The mess hall will not wait for you.” The steely tone that coated her voice shifted to exhaustion so abruptly, Adora was surprised Shadow Weaver hadn’t contracted whiplash.  
  
“What about my report to Lord Hordak?”  
  
Shadow Weaver waved her away. “Lord Hordak does not need to concern himself over such matters. You have other things to think about.”  
  
Adora didn’t know how to feel about that. She was sure the implications bordered on treason, but Shadow Weaver had been Hordak’s second since before Adora’s birth. Surely, she knew best.  
  
Rising from her kneel, Adora gave one final salute.  
  
The thoughts still swirled in her head as she mechanically made her way to the mess hall. There were only a handful of soldiers that scattered across the tables, but she made sure to claim a spot in the darkest corner with her ration of preserved fruit and dried meat.  
  
Shadow Weaver was covering for her. What Adora didn’t know was why. Could it be because she didn’t want it to reflect badly on her? It made sense until you considered that she went back on Adora’s demotion. Surely, if Adora made another fumble, it would look worse in the long run. So why?  
  
“Hey, Captain. You’re looking like trash today.” Lonnie’s smug face gazed back at her from across the previously unoccupied table.  
  
Adora frowned. “Gee. Thanks.”  
  
“I was just pulling your leg. Man, that old witch must have really done you in.”  
  
Adora huffed. “Yeah, well, I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.”  
  
“Can’t argue with you there.”  
  
“What are you doing here, Lonnie? If it’s to make me feel worse, then good job. You can go now.”  
  
Lonnie blew a raspberry into the air and leaned closer. “Adora, loosen up. You’ve been stressing out like crazy about this dumb forest, and you need to stop. It’s affecting your team. We don’t even know why you’re obsessed with this in the first place.  
  
The mess hall echoed with a loud clatter as Adora slammed her fists on the table. “BECAUSE I NEED TO, LONNIE!”  
  
The cadet leaned back into her seat.  
  
Adora’s glare was fierce and her eyes were pinpricks in a sea of white. “Everyone tells me that I did all these things—I kidnapped a princess, I recruited another to our cause, I froze the Whispering Wood—but that doesn’t feel right. How did I do any of that and why can’t I do any of it again? What happened to me?”  
  
Lonnie’s expression was no longer that of a friend beseeching the other, but of a nervous Horde soldier, forced to keep its secrets. Her hand twitched with apprehension, “I don’t know what you mean, Force Captain Adora,” but she reached out for one more comforting gesture, “but if I were you, I wouldn’t be saying that in places where Shadow Weaver has ears.”  
  
Adora mulled that over and nodded. “I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”  
  
“Might as well. You’re definitely not eating that.  
  
Adora glanced down at her disheveled plate, discovering the fruit had covered the meat in a sticky mess. “Ugh, gross.”  
  
“I got some snacks in the barracks if you want some.”  
  
“You know that’s not allowed.”  
  
“You gonna stop me?”  
  
The two women wandered away, never noticing the golden eyes that tracked them from the ventilation shaft. A rumble emanated from deep in its throat before it padded away. Its thin claws made occasional clicks that echoed against the cool metal. It navigated through the twisting turns, eventually coming to a mesh screen that easily gave way with a push.  
  
It greeted the waiting figure with a chirrup  
  
“Got anything?” It asked.  
  
Golden eyes blinked close and hissed at the slight discomfort that wracked its body. Bones clicked and muscles shifted until the tiny kitten was replaced by a young girl. She took a breath before finally replying. “I think she’s going to grab a snack before heading to bed.”  
  
“You think?”  
  
The young girl rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m not sure if she’s getting the snack, but I know she’s going to sleep soon. Good enough for you?”  
  
The figure smirked, sauntering over to ruffle the young girl’s head. “Good job, squirt. We’ll make our move tonight.”  
  
With a toothy grin and a messy salute, the young girl giggled. “Yes, sir!”

~

It really was true that people could get used to anything For example: waking up with pain.  
  
Even as barely pubescent, she had already spent most of her life learning how to hit others with weapons, and those she grew up with learned the same. Waking up with just a black eye was considered a blessing, more common was that shoulder muscle that always tied up with knots in the morning or that two vertebrates that never seemed happy from 0000 to around 0930.  
  
This time, however, there was nothing. Not a single ounce of pain throughout her whole body. In fact, she imagined that this was probably what sleeping on a cotton candy cloud would feel like. Maybe she really did die, and this happy, weightless feeling in her head was part of being deceased.  
  
Unbidden, a giggle bubbled from her throat at the saturated, bright colors that ran together. There weren’t many variations. Everything around her was made of heavy brown wood, from the ceiling to the walls, to the funny little fireplace that crackled with more wood. How did this place not burn down, she wondered.  
  
Catra looked around and noticed that when she swung her head, the shapes dashed about in a pleasant way, like mixed paint across a flat surface. Her giggling grew manic, uncontrolled in a way that she hadn’t giggled since childhood. It was wonderful.  
  
“Awake already? Quite a fighter, aren’t you?”  
  
Catra’s eyes drifted to the blurry figure that rose above her. She grinned. “Hey, Adora.” With a stop, the colors began to solidify into a different shape. “Or…not.”  
  
“Adora?” The woman began, eyes twinkling with both amusement and worry. “I quite like that name, but you’re mistaken. Though I suppose I can’t blame you. Your head must be swimming in too much herb. My name is Pantina. What may I call you?” Pantina’s jet black hair tumbled across her shoulders and chest in flowing waves, and the woman’s eyes were the welcoming warmth of fresh honey. She was also much older, middle-aged, with laugh lines and crows feet. Her soft, lithe features weren’t hardened by combat and…oh, yes. Something that might have drawn Catra’s curiosity more, had she been in a saner state, she had a tail, long and slim that swayed contently behind her, and ears atop her head, just like Catra’s  
  
Catra came to the very obvious conclusion that, no, this was, in fact, not Adora. Part of Catra was disappointed, but it was so hard to feel any kind of negativity under the magical effects of this “herb”. Not to mention, this woman was just as pretty and her voice was so smooth.  
  
Catra’s mouth opened, not entirely sure if she wanted to ask a question or make a statement, and her mouth carried out the sentiment, spewing out sounds that probably had a meaning in the void of existence.  
  
Pantina placed a tender hand on Catra’s head, claws raking down each tangle with soothing shushes. “Oh dear. Just hold on for a moment.” The woman turned to call behind her, but she kept her eyes squarely on Catra’s face.  
  
The younger woman began to purr, nuzzling into Pantina’s hand.  
  
“Baal, honey. Will you get the powder flux please?” She was silent for a moment before adding, “and for future reference, try to be a little lighter on the sinew root.”  
  
To Catra, she was beginning to sound like a fish, burbling under water, or maybe it was more like talking through a wall. Or maybe it was like talking like a fish through a wall underwater.  
  
Catra giggled again. What a silly image. “Fshhhhhh lay, puuuuttryyy.” She lifted her finger in the air and pressed it against the woman’s forehead.  
  
Pantina didn’t seem to mind, but her eyebrows scrunched together in concern. She watched Catra speaking nonsense, drifting from sleepy mutterings to adamant professions. Only one thing was consistent; none of it formed any actual words  
  
A small movement from the corner of the room caught Pantina’s attention, and she finally looked away to smile at the young child that slowly walked towards her.  
  
Catra followed her gaze. There was a younger version of her, looking nervous and wary, a steaming mug of something in her hands.  
  
_Hologram._ Catra thought, _but they messed up my eyes. How do you mess up eyes?_  
  
She passed the cup to Pantina who pressed it against Catra’s lips.  
  
She didn’t resist and allowed her muscle memory to do the work of puckering her lips and funneling the sweet tasting liquid down her throat. It did not taste good, she realized, but only after she’d drained the majority of it.  
  
The effects were slow at first. The warmth spread down her chest and through her stomach before reaching out through her limbs, down to her fingers and toes. It brought a pleasant heat to her body that began to dissipate in short order. In its place were throbbing pockets of pain and discomfort. The colors settled, and Catra’s brain regained dreadful clarity.  
  
Her eyes dilated and she jumped, jolting up into a sitting position. She hissed. Her claws raised defensively over her torso as her back made contact with the logs on the wall.  
  
Pantina blinked at the sudden turnaround, too startled to react more than a slight tilt of her body away from the frantic teen. However, the child next to her took a mad leap behind Pantina, pressing herself against the warm back. Cold fear stiffened her muscles into paralysis.  
  
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” The child named Baal heard the teen’s shrill voice, the hard-edged making her body quake in fear.  
  
The muscle’s on Pantina’s back tensed under Baal’s balled fist, but Pantina stayed steady, her voice attempting to sooth the heated atmosphere. “We gave you a dose of our finest pain reliever. Though it seems you have a sensitivity to one of its active ingredients.”  
  
“I’ve never had a reaction to any pain meds before.” The teen shot back. The edge was still sharp as a razor, but there was a bit of consideration that crawled into her voice.  
  
There was a silence as Pantina tilted her head, thinking on her answer. “It’s native to our island. You are not from here I take it?”  
  
There was a scoff. “Obviously not.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
Baal finally gathering the courage to peak over Pantina’s shoulder, the teen’s eyes whipped around to look at her. The mismatched set pinned her in place, gawking at the warm gold before switching to look at the cool blue. Baal wasn’t sure if the teen was going to snap at her for the obvious staring because Pantina drew her attention again  
  
“Are you a mainlander?”  
  
The teenager’s eyebrows drew into such a hard V that Baal couldn’t help thinking, _her head must hurt._  
  
Uncertainty, the teen nods.  
  
“I see.” Pantina nods in a concluding manner as if a secret test finally came to a close. “Well, Ms…”  
  
“Catra.”  
  
“Ms. Catra.” Baal rolled the name around in her mind as Pantina continued to speak. “You were brought here with grave injuries—dehydration, damaged larynx, multiple abrasions and contusions, infected and deep lacerations—a fair distance into the Weirding Wood. If I were to assume, he thought you were just an unfortunate villager.”  
  
“And why would he think that?”  
  
The kind contralto of Pantina’s voice turned, darkening with a warning. “Because outsiders aren’t welcome on our village.”  
  
Baal was impressed with how nonplused the teen seemed to be. The only sign of her surprise was the upward quirk of a brow. “So what do you intend to do next? Tell the authorities?  
  
“I am the healer with orders from Prince Leonin to treat you. If he mistook you for one of ours, I fail to see how it’s my responsibility to correct it.” Pantina shrugged. “Any trouble which you bring upon yourself, however, I doubt others will be quite as forgiving.”  
  
Catra turned her eyes downward. “I don’t start trouble unless someone gives me a good reason. As soon as I’m healthy, I’m leaving.  
  
“And, where to?”  
  
Catra looked annoyed when she looked up. “Not here.”  
  
“The mainland?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“There may be a reason for you to start trouble after all.  
  
Catra’s expression turned wary.  
  
Pantina frowned. “The village is surrounded by the Weirded Wood and only royalty has the power to cross it. Even if you somehow fight your way through, the mainland is days away.”  
  
The wary look morphed into the first hints of fear that Baal had seen from the teen as Pantina’s words hung in the air like smog.  
  
“There is no way off of this island.”

~

Adora’s dreams always had these two distinctive blobs, a boy and a girl. They were always so happy, carefree. Adora ached to see their face clearly, but the harder she tried, the blurrier the figures became  
  
_“Are you okay?”_ The boy asked. His voice reaching Adora like he was speaking through a wall.  
  
“I’m fine. I thought I saw…Nevermind. I’m just stressed,” she heard herself reply.  
  
_Stressed about what?_ Adora had a list, but somehow, she knew dream Adora had none of it in her mind.  
  
A gentle hand caused Adora to turn. The girl had a comforting hold on her shoulder. _“Hang in there, Adora. Next stop, Mystacor.”_  
  
_Mystacor? What’s Mystacor?_  
  
The boy smiled at her and walked forward. _“Are you okay?”_ He asked. His voice reaching Adora like he was speaking through a wall.  
  
“I’m fine. I thought I saw…Nevermind. I’m just stressed,” she heard herself reply.  
  
_Stressed about what?_ Adora had a list, but somehow, she knew dream Adora had none of it in her mind.  
  
A gentle hand caused Adora to turn. The girl had a comforting hold on her shoulder. _“Hang in there, Adora. Next stop, Mystacor.”_  
  
_Mystacor? What’s Mystacor? Wait, I asked that already._ “What’s going on?”  
  
The boy smiled at her and walked forward. _“Are you okay?”_ He asked. His voice reaching Adora like he was speaking through a wall.  
  
“I’m fine. I thought I saw…Nevermind. I’m just stressed,” she heard herself reply.  
  
_Stressed about what?_ Adora had a list, but somehow, she knew dream Adora had none of it in her mind.  
  
A gentle hand caused Adora to turn. The girl had a comforting hold on her shoulder. _“Hang in there, Adora. Next stop, Mystacor.”_  
  
“Stop! Who are you people?!” The images blurred and their voices garbled together. Instead of quieting down, they seemed to ring into Adora’s ears.  
  
The boy’s face shifted into a sickening facsimile of a smile and drifted forward. _**“ArE yOu oKaY?”**_ He asked. He was so distorted, Adora never would have understood him if he wasn’t running on a script.  
  
“WHO ARE YOU?!”  
  
A gentle hand caused Adora to turn. The girl had turned into nothing but a dark apparition that gazed at her from dark holes in her head. **_“_ _HaNg In ThErE,_ _AdOrA. NeXt StOp, MyStAcOr.”_**  
  
“NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!”  
  
Adora’s eyes snapped open only to be greeted by two very bright, very yellow, cat-like eyes. With a yelp, Adora reached behind her pillow and brandished a knife. She blindly swung at whatever hovered above her.  
  
“Kid, look out!” The figure was yanked back by another.  
  
Adora’s panicked eyes flickered across the room. _Two. Both Cloaked. One’s smaller. Possibly a child. Threat level: unknown. The older one has a syringe. Threat level: definitely higher._ Her brain raced before lunging at the taller form, swinging her knife in a wide arc. The figure jumped, and Adora had to blink. They were so quick, it was almost like they’d teleported. _I can’t beat her. Then…_ In a flash of wicked inspiration, Adora rounded on the other cloaked figure and pulled them in by their collar until the knife was poised at its neck. The hood of the cloak fell revealing the stricken face of a young tween, no more than 12 or 13.  
  
The tall figure froze. “Adora, don’t!”  
  
The blonde’s mind finally had a moment to catch up and recoiled, realizing that she was holding a child at knifepoint. She caught the restless twitch of ears, pasting themselves against the young girl’s scalp.  
  
“Easy, Adora. Just let her go.”  
  
The young girl’s mouth was open, but she wasn’t the one that spoke.  
  
Slowly, her eyes moved to the other figure. They’d removed their cloak and Adora felt her chest constrict against her lungs.  
  
“Catra…” There were so many questions that preceded that name, it was impossible to choose a single one.  
  
Catra’s mouth twitched up in a familiar smirk. “Hey, Adora.”  
  
Days and nights of wondering, and now, there she was, caught between something familiar and something strange, the scraggly way her hair fluffed and the leanness of her figure, a memory from so long ago, but her face was cut with hard lines. The conflicting hues of her eyes were infused with a cool confidence that Adora had never seen before.  
  
Her grip loosened and the young girl pulled away, slapping the knife out of her grasp. She sent it skittering across the floor, by Catra’s feet. Adora yelped in surprise as she was pushed aside. The young girl jetted past her, running straight to Catra’s side, and no sooner turned around to bare her teeth and hiss.  
  
Catra held out her arm, whether to keep her back or to keep Adora away, the blonde wasn’t sure. “Easy, squirt,” she said.  
  
She quieted to a growl but glared at Adora from across Catra’s arm.  
  
Adora found her voice along with a healthy amount of outrage and narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Catra chuckled. “Can’t I come to visit an old friend?”  
  
“Stop playing, Catra.” Adora’s tone was accusatory. “They said you defected. They said you were an enemy and there’s no way I can trust you.”  
  
“You don’t actually believe them, do you?”  
  
“And why shouldn’t I?”  
  
Catra’s devilish smirk fell into a soft frown, her eyebrows knitting together. “They’ve gotten you all twisted up don’t they?” Her voice was insistent but genuine. It was a rare tone and it melted Adora’s defenses like a fragile snow-flake. “I’ll ask again,” Catra pressed. “You don’t actually believe them do you?” She stepped towards Adora who took a step back. “I’ll answer for you. You don’t believe them. There’s something wrong here and you know it.”  
  
Adora averted her eyes, the tell-tale sign of doubt. After all these years, it hadn’t changed, and Catra definitely noticed it.  
  
“Don’t you want some answers? Don’t you want to know what’s been going on? The real story?”  
  
Adora’s reply was almost subconsciously given, and it surprised them both by how quickly it came. “I do.”  
  
“Well…come here.” Tentatively, Catra reached forward, halting when Adora flinched back. They stayed there, silently communicating in a language they’d learned as children, reading the other’s body with unspoken words. Even if it had usually been Adora on the acting end, Catra found herself quite versed in asking with nothing but her eyes. Eventually, Adora made a move forward, and they drew each other in an overdue embrace.  
  
Catra was warm, and Adora buried her head in her neck, dismayed that her nose filled with an unfamiliar mix of rainwater and dirt, stray flower petals and forest leaves, stories that Adora could only guess at.  
  
“Where have you been?” Adora whispered, relishing the feel of Catra’s claws running through her ponytail.  
  
“It’s a long story.”  
  
“I want to hear it.”  
  
Catra sighed, pulling her in tighter. “Later. I promise.”  
  
There was a sharp sting of pain on the side of Adora’s neck and she flinched, reeling back. In the dim light, she saw the silver glint of a needle in Catra’s hand, before her vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious about the image, it's a card called Steam Vents. I thought it looked a lot like the Fright Zone. God, I love Magic the Gathering's art.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think about chapter 2!


	3. A Notion On Family

Pantina hummed a quiet tune, the wafting smells of fresh fried eggs, smoking cuts of salmon, and steaming bowls of rice, radiating through the kitchen and brightening her dining table. _It does a mother’s heart well to see a full plate of nutrition for her little kitten,_ she thought.

Her face scrunched, tapping her claws on the wooden counter. _Plates of nutrition for the kittens…_ She amended, glancing at the third place on their unoccupied table. It was such a novel sight, three sets of plates. Pantina had wished for the opportunity to cook for three, but she hadn’t expected the third guest to be a stranger from across the sea.

Pantina filled a pitcher with cool water and placed it on the table. Little flecks of condensation dampened the skin on her hands, and she unconsciously wiped it on her dress before nodding.

Her mind still replayed the image of poor Leo’s face as he marched into her hut, the panic more evident than the dirt stains and drying sweat. Had Baal been elsewhere, he would have gone on assuming a terrible magical accident had aged her somehow, never mind such magic no longer existed on their quaint little island.

“Baal, honey, it’s time for breakfast,” she called, barely raising her voice. The small hut had thin walls, and it wasn’t very big. She expected an immediate response, if not with a callback, then at least with the shifting of the creaky floorboards as Baal shifted in her bed. When a minute ticked by and no such sounds were forthcoming, she furrowed her brows in confusion. “Baal?"

Silence.

Pantina walked the short distance from the kitchen to her child’s room, knocking twice on the door. “Baal? Are you awake?” She pushed the door open and saw the disheveled bed was empty of her child’s tiny form. Raising a brow, she wandered into her bedroom, wondering if she’d been so caught in her own thoughts, she missed when Baal had woken. Technically, she was right, but her room was not where Baal’s interest called.

Pantina swung the guest room door open. The daylight was streaming in through the open window, pouring its golden rays on the meticulously tucked bedcovers. Even the chair, positioned at the bedside the night before, was shoved back with the corner table. Baal leaned against the window sill, her tail swishing like a curious pendulum, and her back was turned as she gazed outward. The tall trees that canopied the outside glade were the only things Pantina could see from her vantage point, but walking closer, she noticed a heavily breathing figure that kicked and jumped, spinning in the air with impressive shows of athleticism.

“Is that Catra?”

Baal jumped, unaware that her mother had snuck up behind her.

“I said she shouldn’t, I swear.” The young girl defended, hands going up in preemptive surrender.

Pantina just huffed in disbelief, maternal instincts taking over. She jumped out through the open window and stomped towards the sweat-soaked teen.

“What, pray tell, are you doing this early in the morning?”

Catra landed on her foot awkwardly, barely catching herself from falling on the ground.

Pantina’s arms were crossed as she tapped her foot. She had a scowl on her face that straightened Catra’s posture like limp yarn pulled tight.

She threw up a salute. “Training, Ma’am,” she responded with a snap, before catching herself and forcing a languid posture.

It was far from a seamless transition, and it caught Pantina off guard for just a second. She raised a brow and deepened her glare. “Training? You’ve barely recovered.”

“It’s good enough.” Catra shrugged. “And it’s not like I was in a coma or something.”

“That’s certainly not the point!” Pantina spluttered, her jaw hanging slack, appalled by the complete lack of self-preservation Catra seemed to display. Even now, her body was still a little shaky, but the teen didn’t seem to find it odd in the slightest.

“I’m fine.” Catra crossed her arms and glared. Despite coming a few inches short, Catra thought herself quite intimidating. She’d orchestrated battle strategies and won. She knew how to strike fear into the hearts of Rebellion Fighters, and she knew how to lead an army of hardened troopers, but Pantina was something else entirely. Pantina was a caring mother, and Catra found herself out of her depth when her hard glare met a concerned frown.

Catra stood like a petrified rock as Pantina’s cool hands met her warm cheeks. “Such a strong young woman,” she said, voice soft with sadness and just a tinge of…was it admiration? “If anything will you at least indulge me? I’d be very grateful.”

With her head between Pantina’s hands, it was hard to look away from the imploring golden eyes, but Catra tried anyway. Her left cheek squished as she pushed against Pantina’s hold, and she muttered out a “fine.”

“Thank goodness.” Pantina’s face brightened, and she carefully took Catra’s hand to move them back towards the hut. “Now, let’s get some breakfast in you. You’re thin as a broom handle.”

Catra’s aching body felt warm, and she still felt a ghost of Pantina’s hands on her cheeks. As pleasant as it was, for a split second, she remembered the moment Shadow Weaver had touched her before her escape. Catra looked at the back of Pantina’s head and shivered. She pulled her hand free and held it to her chest. “I’ll walk myself.” She made a point to avoid Pantina’s eyes when she passed, but she would never have understood the look anyway. There was no memory in Catra’s head to help her recognize the genuine maternal concern on Pantina's face.

Catra jumped in through the window, sailing over Baal’s head. Baal pressed herself against the wall in fear even if Catra didn’t spare her a glance.

“Oh, dear,” Pantina whispered in the air, heart twisting in her chest. She knew that it wasn’t her place. Catra only looked like her child, but she would never have guessed how hard it would be to separate them in her mind when Catra just looked so broken, mending herself in ways that crippled her view of the world. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she pushed them back, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She didn’t know what to make of the guest in her house, but she figured that she could unpack those thoughts later. She still had her own child to take care of, and Pantina knew that Baal wouldn’t enter the kitchen if it meant being alone with Catra for any extent of time.

She sighed and walked to the hut’s front door. She imagined Catra was probably seated at the dining table. Her thoughts still swirled in her head when she noticed a tall figure of a man, sandy blond hair framing his rugged face. He had a gentle smile under the warmest of ocean eyes, and Pantina felt her heart skip.

“Coons,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?"

“I was just investigating something,” he said. The man’s eyes flickered. “I also wanted to see you.

Pantina looked away. “Leo told you about the girl he found in the woods, didn’t he?” There was a brief pause where Pantina could picture the way Coon’s body deflated, but she knew that if she looked up, he would be back to his composed self. Instead, she kept her eyes firmly on the stray blades of grass that poked up from the lightly trodden path to her door

“Yes, I’m glad I gave him that training exercise.” Coons finally said. “How is she?

Pantina felt the maternal concern push up from her heart. “Good enough to ‘train’ this morning.

“Oh?” The lilt in Coon’s voice worried Pantina, so she finally gathered enough courage to look. There was indeed a slight rise in Coon’s brow, and he had a sly smirk directed past the hut’s closed door. Pantina’s stomach exploded in a flurry of lightning bugs, and she scowled at herself

Coons didn’t seem to notice, flashing her a lopsided smirk. “I’d love to meet her. May I join you three for breakfast?”

~

Eerie sounds pervaded the Fright Zone like humidity—an unexplained grinding of gears here, sparks of electric currents there. Children learned to dismiss ominous groaning early on. And the dark? Hidden from the prying eyes of commanding officers and instructors, the cover of darkness was nothing but a welcoming blanket.

However, Shadow Weaver was not born in the Fright Zone, and she wasn’t raised to find comfort in such things. She adapted, but sometimes, given enough pressure, her basic instincts would overtake her practiced ease.

“When I allowed you to reclaim your position as Second, it was because you proved your worth by escaping our prisons and taking She-Ra from the hands of the Rebellion.” Standing in Hordak’s sanctum as he bore into her with those inhuman eyes, she couldn’t help but twitch at every whirring movement of the metallic implements that worked behind his back. “By extension, I trusted your judgment on letting Force Captain Adora live. Your assurances of using She-Ra’s power for the Horde was promising, but not only have you wasted years on a liability that bore no fruit, but you’ve also lost it.”

“My Lord, I shall retrieve Adora myself. She will not get far, I assure you,” she said, hands clasped in front of her chest as if in prayer.

“I no longer trust your assurances, Shadow Weaver. I’m beginning to see that your success has been nothing but happenstance.” It was hard to see anything else with the dim light of the computer monitors, copious as they were, and Hordak seemed to wear the darkness as naturally as the sorceress of shadows herself. “I’ll allow you to fix your mistake. You will bring Adora back to the Horde, and you will bring her back dead, or you won’t bother coming back at all.

Shadow Weaver leaned forward, attempting to speak. She abruptly cut the thought short in favor of ducking as a vampiric boy flew low. He swiped, missing, and shrieked with the fervor of a demonic banshee.

“Now, leave.” Hordak’s words carried the weight of finality, and he solidified his dismissal by turning back to the contraption that stretched high towards the vaulted ceiling.

Its circular shape was imposing, like a giant gate. Bare wires jutted out every so often from sections with missing panels, but it definitely had more substance since she’d last seen it. The process for its creation was steadily accelerating. Or maybe it was finally on track. She wasn’t sure.

Shadow Weaver dared to steal a few extra seconds to observe the way Hordak’s sharp eyes turned glassy and distant. The metallic arms encircled him, busy at work as the code scrolled in glowing green.

Catra’s banishment had led to an unpredictable fallout. What should have been a removal of an inconsequential pawn had resulted in an upheaval of loyalty and trust among the superiors and their forces. In-fighting was at an all-time high. Whispers of desertion and sleeper scouts flittered from one division to another. The rebellion was pushing back with progressively strategic advances. Chaos rained both inside and outside the Horde’s walls. They were losing the war.

Hordak’s glassy stare focused just enough for him to notice Shadow Weaver’s stare and he sneered. “GO!”

With a terse bow, Shadow Weaver scurried to the door, barely clearing it when it slammed shut with a hiss.

And yet, Hordak had refused to take command of his own armies. The Lord had gotten unpredictable and volatile with the betrayal of the purple princess still bitter on his tongue. Even the destruction of Dryl hadn’t quelled his anger, and he turned progressively more reclusive as his portal project consumed his mind.

It filled Shadow Weaver with equal parts anxiety and glee. She could no longer anticipate what he would do next, but it also left the entire military force, as fractured as it was, in her undisputed control. All she needed to do was bide her time. She still had loyalty within the higher echelons of the ranks. With the continual lack of presence from Hordak, they would fully support her soon. She just needed to bide her time and play her cards.

She slowly made her way through the halls, shambling shadows caressing the floors and walls as she walked. Soldiers that crossed her path scurried to let her through as if a physical force had pushed them to the walls. They saluted tersely and shuffled away as quickly as respect would allow. That was how the Horde needed to operate, with quick movements and respect. They were a military operation, not a social club.

As the woman rounded the corner, she noticed two cadets, lieutenant juniors in their grade, 15, maybe 14 at least. They giggled like schoolchildren as they traded sheets of paper. Shadow Weaver came upon them and used her height to loom from above. They carried pictures, hand drawn with incredible accuracy. Shadow Weaver recognized them as different places within the Horde, barracks 18 complete with lifelike portraits of the individual cadets as they slept, the interior of the air traffic control tower as it overlooked the flight deck, even individual headshots of smiling, oil stained mechanics.

“What are these?” She hissed.

The young cadets began to tremble and the light holds they had on their doodles crumbled in their grasp.

The boy with light auburn hair gulped. “J-just an idle hobby, sir,” he forced out.

The whites of Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed into slits. “An idle hobby?” The words leaked out of her like toxic sludge, burning her tongue as she said it. Another one of Catra’s ridiculous “reforms,” another strain on resources, the damn cat had introduced a variety of different extraneous activities to the troops, even encouraging useless distractions. “If you have time to waste on ridiculous ‘hobbies’ you have extra time to clean the skiff hangars.” Shadow Weaver raised her claws and the cadets clung to each other, shutting their eyes as they shook like leaves in the wind.

“I accept responsibility for them, sir.”

Shadow Weaver looked over her shoulder. “Force Sergeant Lonnie,” the mage raised a brow that went unseen behind her mask, “these are your wards?”

Shadow Weaver knew Lonnie from her time as Adora and Catra’s long-standing squadmate. There was nothing remarkable about the woman, and if Adora hadn’t considered her almost as good a friend as her other flea-ridden charge, Shadow Weaver never would have picked the Sergeant from a crowd. As it were, she kept an eye on Lonnie and knew the woman had an ample amount of competence. However, the cowering children behind her were not what Shadow Weaver expected from the Sergeant in terms of mentorship and coaching.

“No, sir. They’re my comrade, Corporal Kyle’s wards. However, he’s…indisposed at the moment and they’re under my care for today. I’ll be sure to report this incident to him. He won’t take lightly to such a careless waste of time.” Sergeant Lonnie crossed her arms and glared.

That story Shadow Weaver could believe. “Fine. Dismissed.” The two scampered away and Lonnie turned to follow them when Shadow Weaver called for her to stop. “Not you, Sergeant. A word if you please.”

Lonnie tilted her head curiously and began following Shadow Weaver. She didn’t ask where they were going or what they would be talking about. Shadow Weaver approved of that.

They traced the familiar path to the chamber of the Black Garnet. The rock was half dark and inert, another reminder of Catra’s influence, and one that Shadow Weaver could only blame herself for. It was her that assigned Force Captain Scorpia to watch her on that very first mission but she never expected that they would form such a bond, enough that the princess would turn tail at Catra’s banishment, nor did they anticipate the effect such a thing would have on the power of the Black Garnet.

Shadow Weaver scowled at the large crack that ran from the top to its base, spider webbing across the uneven surface, before she turned to face Force Sergeant Lonnie. “Tell me, Sergeant, what is your opinion on your old squad-mate and Commander?”

Lonnie blinked in surprise. “Do you mean Catra?” The woman took a moment to catch herself, restoring the rigid posture of her military bearing before opening her mouth again. “My opinion, sir?”

“Yes, the two of you grew up in very close quarters. You knew how she was just as well as Adora, if from a different perspective. I would like to know how you see her. Speak freely, Sergeant.”

Lonnie looked at the ground, working her jaw as she balled and unballed her fists. When she looked up, her brows were knitted together, casting a dark shadow over her eyes. “I don’t believe in speaking badly of the dead, but as a squadron member, she was mediocre at best and as a Force Commander, she didn’t do anything unless it benefited her. She was selfish until the very end.”

“And what of your current Force Captain? You’ve been in several missions led by her during the years. You’ve seen her successes and failures.”

This response came more naturally. “Despite Force Captain Adora’s shortcomings, she’s always done the best for her and her team, sir. She’s admirable. Always has been, even when we were barely Cadets.”

Shadow Weaver nodded. “And if I tell you that your captain has been taken by the disgraced, lazy ex-commander, what would you say?”

Lonnie was silent for a moment, her body tensing before catching herself. She clenched her jaw as she consciously forced herself to relax despite the wave of panic that seized her chest. “That’s impossible. She was sent to Beast Island with a million injuries.”

The mage just waved her hand and the TV in the middle of the room flickered to life. A grainy video began to play. The figures moved too fast for Lonnie to recognize faces, but Adora’s signature build and ponytail were obvious tells. The other two were under heavy cloaks that concealed everything until Shadow Weaver paused at a specific scene. Glowing two-toned eyes with slit pupils peered out from under the hood. The identity was unmistakable then.

Lonnie’s face was the picture of surprise, mouth ajar as her pupils constricted. Shadow Weaver could see the gears in the Sergeant’s brain straining to turn, cogs popping out of their placement as she strained under the weight of the information. Shadow Weaver could forgive the unprofessional way Lonnie began to buckle. The woman probably didn’t even realize she’d fallen on her knees.

“Why…why did you show me this?” Lonnie asked.

Shadow Weaver crouched, outstretching her hand to help the fallen Sergeant to her feet. “Catra is not just selfish, child.” Shadow Weaver’s tone had gotten softer. “She’s also an excellent liar. I don’t know who she’s ensnared in her trap but you see the truth of who she is. She’s a danger and I wasn’t lying when I said you know her as well as Adora.”

“I still don’t understand, sir. I can’t mount an attack. I’m an Infantry Force Sergeant, not an officer.”

“Lucky for both of us, I am.”

“You’re going to go after Catra and Adora?” Lonnie raised a disbelieving brow.

“No, Sergeant. We are going after Catra and Adora, along with any others that see that damnable animal’s true colors. I leave those preparations to you. Any questions?”

Shadow Weaver watched the way Lonnie’s eyes swirled with a myriad of emotions, never settling on any single one for long. “No questions, sir.” The woman finally decided on a solid mask of indifference, carefully layering over whatever else might have been fighting towards the surface.

“Good.” Shadow Weaver turned her back to stare at the fractured garnet. “Prepare your forces. Take whatever you need and report back here as soon as you’ve completed pre-operations. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shadow Weaver heard the door open and close, the heavy thuds of Lonnie’s steps disappearing with a hiss. She missed the way Lonnie’s expression change, feet dragging as she walked towards her barracks.

~

She was on the other side of the room with that guarded look—not quite a glare but certainly not happy—that Catra had received way too many times to address. She was set to ignore the little bugger for the remainder of her stay, but she just kept staring. That was new. Most people just stared long enough to figure out if Catra was going to attack before warily turning to whatever they were doing, or sometimes, they would just run away and avoid future encounters altogether.

Baal was different.

Baal just kept _staring_. Catra was barely five minutes into her warm-ups when she saw the kid’s little head peeking from the window. She watched Catra like she was the latest Battle Simulation Replay. It could have been flattering, but Baal didn’t say anything, didn’t even gesture or wave, just stared. And now, sitting at the table with the strange foreign smells, unfamiliar but still managing to tantalize her senses, unable to touch it due to Pantina taking her sweet, _swee_ t time, Baal had situated herself as far away as possible while staying in the same room, _staring at her._

“Ugh, what do you want, kid?” Baal’s tiny body jumped like Catra had lunged at her. Catra just glared harder, willing the child to say something. When it was evident that it wasn’t going to work, she barked her question again. “Spit it out. You obviously want something. What do you want? Why do you keep staring at me?”

Baal’s face scrunched together as her fingers locked and released. Her tail coiled around her leg, before looking up, bright eyes determined. “What kind of clothes is that?”

Catra blinked. “My…clothes?”

Baal’s determination burst like a soap bubble, and she looked down, her tail snaking their way into her hands. She wrung the appendage in her thin fingers. She was about to choke out a dismissal of her question when she heard Catra chuckle.

Baal peaked upward to see amusement jumping from one distinctly colored eye to the other. Her lips quirked into a lopsided smile, head resting on her hands. “It’s called a uniform, kid,” Catra answered. “Everyone I come from wears it.”

The kid seemed to nod, her nervousness still evident in her posture, but at least she wasn’t staring anymore. Baal’s mouth kept opening and closing. It was a little funny. She looked like a fish Catra had seen in the Whispering Woods once.

“Your name’s Baal, right?”

The kid looked up, startled, and nodded.

“What about _your_ clothes?” Catra asked.

Baal looked down at her drawstring pants and robe-like tunic. The light blue material looked soft to the touch, held close by a black sash that crisscrossed around the kid’s stomach. “My mom made it.”

Catra nodded. “It’s nice.”

Baal’s face brightened like a flash of lightning in a midnight sky.

_Aww, the little stalker’s kinda cute._ Catra chuckled to herself.

Baal saddled up to the seat in front of Catra, all hesitance forgotten. She lay her hands flat on the table surface and leaned forward. “Since you have a uniform, does that make you a warrior where you’re from?”

“I’m a soldier. It’s a little different.” Catra’s eyes trailed the swishing of Baal’s tail. _Any more excitement and I’m sure she’s going to fly._

“Ohhh, so you’re a Horde soldier then. Interesting.”

Baal and Catra both looked up. Pantina was standing at the door, face flushed, and she was with a man that could have been carved from marble. He was tall, and lean, with kind eyes that had a twin somewhere across the ocean, probably playing tea parties with princesses and rebel riffraff. He smiled at Catra in a way that she could describe as dazzling, and Catra decided that she disliked him already.

She wiped the smile from her face, replacing it with something blasé.

“Papa!” Baal leaped in the air, and the marble man effortlessly caught her. Baal looked even smaller in his grasp, but he still made a show of struggling under her meager weight.

“My goodness! What has your mother been feeding you? You’ve gotten so big!”

“I haven’t grown that much from last week, Papa.”

“Haven’t you?” The man looked baffled, and Catra had to restrain herself before her eyes rolled out of their sockets.

“All right, you two. Enough playing around. Our guest is probably starving. Shame on us for making her wait.”

“Hey, I’m a guest too.” The man pouted.

“Oh, that’s true.” Pantina bit her lip, restraining a smile. “An uninvited one, but I guess.”

Baal laughed at her father’s faux wounded look.

Catra just watched the interaction quietly. She felt…strange. _They look happy_ , she thought, at a loss for what to do. _Is this what a family is?_

Catra wasn’t stupid. She knew the technicality of what a family was. The Horde claimed it was her family since before her memory began, she’d thought of that woman as her family as well, and sometimes, the kids who still had their memories of parents and relatives cried about what they'd lost. She knew what family was.

"Baal, honey, sit down, please. You'll topple your seat." Pantina waved her spoon in the air, calmly urging the hyper child to sit. The man had a serene expression on his face but seemed to find pleasure at the display, or maybe he was just happy to be there.

So, Catra knew what family was, but it was the first time she felt like she understood it.

"My name is Coons, by the way," the man suddenly said, addressing Catra.

The teen took a moment to blink out of her thoughts before looking at the man. "Catra," she responded blankly, offering nothing else.

This seemed to draw the man's curiosity more, and his serine smile quirked upward a smidge more to one side. "What's an injured Horde soldier doing outside of the Fright Zone? Are you going to eat?"

Catra realized that she hadn't touched any of the food, and went for the bowl of white beans, a small spoonful in her mouth. Catra's ears perked up. It was a little tame, but it was leagues better than ration bars. She shoveled a bigger scoop into her mouth. "I got lost."

"You got lost across the ocean? By yourself? Without a boat?"

Catra shrugged. "Why does an old man in the middle of a deadly island know about Horde soldiers and the Fright Zone?"

Much to Pantina's relief, Baal had settled in her chair, looking from her father to Catra as they conversed. Coons nodded at Catra in respect.

"That's a fair question," he said. "I was part of the Solarian Warriors. I don't imagine you know much about Magicat traditions."

Catra swallowed loudly, downing a cup of water with it. She came up for air with a sigh before addressing the man again. "Buddy, this is the first time I've even heard of Magicats."

"Interesting," he whispered, but there was an undercurrent of doleful contemplation under the word. The problem was, it disappeared so quickly, Catra wasn't sure if she'd actually heard it. "Well, that won't do. All magicats deserve to know their roots."

Catra sighed. "Oh boy."

Coons kept talking, unperturbed. "And all Magicats come from Solaris, the City of the Hidden Sun." His voice tinged with dreamy pride. "It's just over the hill, about a mile or so from this hut."

"Uh-huh." Catra made a show of not paying attention, just like she'd practiced in all her classes. She hadn't expected a history lesson anyway. If it were anyone else, an origin story about themselves would have been appealing enough, but there was only one thing on Catra's mind. She needed to get back home, and she didn't care about anything else, especially not anything from this Adora-man-look-a-like.

"Solaris is our little hidden gem, protected by the beasts in the Weirded Wood as well as the Solarian Warriors. To become a fully fledged warrior, one must venture past our borders, on a journey for enlightenment."

Catra raised a brow. "Venture past the borders? I thought only the royal family could go into the Weirded Woods?" Coons gave her a triumphant smile. Catra wondered why for only a second before she scowled. "Not that I'm interested. I just found a...discrepancy in my information. I'm just...being thorough."

Pantina hid a disgustingly adoring smile behind her hand and Coons offered his hands in surrender. "Understood." He threw one more amused smirk before it dropped off if his face. "That's not wrong, not technically, but getting through the wood is less about being royalty and more about the warriors themselves."

Catra tilted her head in confusion when the atmosphere became dower; even Baal dipped her head.

"The last king led us into the war almost two decades ago. I was the only one that came back, much to my shame."

Coons suddenly lost all his boyishness, showing the age lines on his forehead and mouth. Pantina almost reached forward, before she took her hand back into her chest. Her face drew into the same sad lines, and Baal mewled from across the table, ears dropping.

The two turned to Baal instantly. They smiled at her in reassurance. Coons reached a hand to ruffle the unruly locks on Baal's head before he turned back to Catra.

"In any case, the only warriors left are myself, the current king, the queen and soon, Leonin, the current prince, whom I'm training right now."

"Oh..." Catra felt like there was something she was missing. She thought about it for a second before shrugging.  _It'll come to me later if it's important._ "Cool, I guess." The teen shoveled the eggs in her mouth. "Oh, gods. These are amazing."

Pantina smiled. "Here. You can have the rest of mine too, darling."

Catra's pupils dilated into giant, glimmering black holes. "Thank you so much." Catra decided to savor Pantina's portion, dividing it into two bites instead of one. She licked her lips and moved to demolish the last plate of food.

"So, will you tell us again what an injured Horde soldier is doing outside of the Fright Zone?"

Catra stopped, her glee dissipating into the air. She looked at Coons with annoyance. "I got lost," she replied again.

Pantina slapped Coons in the arm, and the man gave her a sheepish look. The woman sighed. "It's alright if you don't want to say, darling. Just finish your food now."

The thought of excusing herself just to be petulant crossed her mind, but Pantina seemed genuine, and the food _was_ amazing. Catra gave the meat a stab, violently gouging a piece from the middle. She bit into it and chewed. "Oh. My. _GODS_. What is this?"

"Salmon, I believe," Pantina replied.

Catra's chest and throat rumbled with a purr.

Pantina smiled. "I'm guessing you don't have meals like this in the Fright Zone."

"Nope. This stuff is like royal, Bright Moon food for me." Catra shoved a few more spoonfuls in her mouth, her chewing getting slower as the thought she'd lost smacked her. "Wait, if the only warriors are royalty, does that mean..." She looked at Coons.

Coons shrugged, realizing Catra's unfinished question. "Yes, the current king and the previous king are my brothers, but I don't care for people calling me Lord."

Catra looked around the table. "So, you're all..."

Baal frowned. "I don't want to be," she declared in a soft but emphatic voice.

"And, Coons and I are no longer together." Pantina made sure that her eyes were squarely in front of her, even if Coons looked like his gut was kicked in.

"Oh," Catra felt awkward and guilty for bringing about such a tense atmosphere, and she grappled for a way to change the subject. "Any candidates for non-royal warriors, then?"

Coons chuckled at her, and Pantina offered a gentle smile, an acknowledgment that her attempt at subject change was terrible but appreciated. A flush rose in Catra's cheeks, and she wondered if she should have taken a page from Baal's book and just mewled.

"We have a few candidates, but they're all very young. They'll have a few years before they can begin training."

Baal seemed to huff at this, gripping her spoon so hard her knuckles turned white.

Catra pretended not to notice, and Coons kept talking. "Though, I do have one candidate I'd like to ask."

"Oh?" Catra looked longingly at her empty plates and leaned back in her chair. "Cool. You should do that," she muttered absently.

"I should." Coons scooted forward, smiling that serene smile he'd entered with, blue eyes twinkling. His movement caused strands of blonde hair to fall around his face, and Catra remembered that she didn't like him. "Would you like to become a Solarian Warrior?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of Catradora...okay, we got no Catradora this chapter, but I needed to get the info-dump out of the way. I hope I was able to make it entertaining. I really wanted to explore the family dynamic between Baal, Pantina, and Coons. That's kinda weird for me because I don't usually use OCs. Oh well, first time for everything. What do you guys think about it?
> 
> See you guys next chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> Art: MTG Alchemist's Refuge


	4. Burden of Emotion

* * *

“Was that really necessary?”

Adora asked the question before she opened her eyes, and a heartrendingly familiar cackle drifted into her ears, ringing through the Whispering Wood, unabashed and free.

“You would have been a bigger pain otherwise.”

Catra’s younger doppelganger sat cross-legged by her feet, tense with renewed vigilance and boring into Adora with laser-like intensity. Catra just grinned, a tiny fang poking out from under her lip.

Adora pulled at the restraints on her hands before testing the ones on her feet. As expected, they held. “I was going to go willingly.”

“Not when you realize where we’re going.”

With a raised brow, Adora decided to go for the obvious question, “Where are we going?”

The skiff sailed seamlessly over the grassy terrain, purples and blues were thrown into a glow for a moment by the bright colors of the moon rise; they must have traveled for a while. She wasn’t sure where they were—courtesy of the wood’s magical properties—but they’d moved far enough for the destination to be adequately ambiguous. She wasn’t expecting Catra to answer so casually.

“Bright Moon.”

Adora glared, her stomach making an anxious flip. “So, you _did_ defect.”

Catra held her position at the skiff’s rudder, her face a careful picture of restraint. “Look,” she started, “a lot happened in that one year you don’t remember. So to save yourself from sounding really dumb, you should keep your mouth shut.”

It was a mean thing to say, and from anyone else, she would have been indignant, but the joking smirk that twisted up Catra’s lips had Adora smiling back with relief. “Glad your time away hasn’t changed how subtle you are.”

“Glad my time away hasn’t changed how dumb your face looks.”

Adora rolled her eyes before resting them on her friend, examining how her ears fluttered in the breeze and how her tail whipped around behind her. “Well, you look good.”

Catra’s smile dipped. “Thanks," she muttered, looking away.

The bangs that flowed freely over her face were reminiscent of times long gone, and it seemed to reverse the clock on Catra’s appearance. She looked youthful, and her eyes held a renewed twinkle under her mismatched irises. She held herself with an easy confidence that was new to Adora, and the strange crimson garb that hung tight around her body did nothing to hide the lean muscles that composed her sleek figure. Even if the lack of a Horde uniform jarred Adora more than she wanted to admit, Catra wore it well. Even if it _was_ the uniform of a different army. A foreign emblem rested on her chest now—a shiny, bronze disk with a tower silhouetted by an orange moon. The image stuck to straps that formed an X across her chest, keeping brown leather shoulder pads in place. Her shins, thighs, and forearms seemed to be paneled by the same tough material. Adora had to wonder how much protection it actually provided. It looked thin enough that any direct attack could puncture right through it. Compared to the Horde—and even Bright Moon—it looked primitive. Moreover, Adora didn't recognize it from any of the adversaries she'd encountered before.

“So, where have you been all this time?” Adora found herself asking.

“Tribal secret, Princess. I can’t just disclose that kind of information.”

Adora frowned. “Who are you calling _Princess_ ? And what do you mean 'tribal secret'? You said you were going to tell me ‘later,’ and it _is_ later.”

Catra’s voice dropped an octave, and there was a rumble in her throat as she said, “Aww, don’t be impatient. I promise I’ll tell you all about little old me in a bit.”

Baal’s ear seemed to flick at this, and she shot Catra a look. Catra returned it with a raise of her brows, and Adora found herself lost to its meaning. Five years really was a long time. She used to know all of Catra’s silent looks.

Catra seemed to sense her shift in mood and walked over, leaving the controls to her young charge, who scrambled to catch it. _Oh, so I guess she can still read me. Then again, Catra was always good at that kind of thing._

Catra crouched in front of Adora. “Don’t pout.”

Adora’s pouting intensified.

Catra rolled her eyes and scoffed, but Adora saw the smallest hint of an indulgent grin on her face. “Fine, I’ll answer one question if it’s not about where I’ve been.”

“Why is it so important that you keep this place a secret?”

She raised a brow. “Really, Adora? Is that going to be your one question? I can tell you now, I’m not giving you a good answer.”

Adora licked her lips in thought. “No, I just…" she sighed before restarting. “Fine.” Her eyes darted to the stiff-armed tween that was nervously directing the skiff. If she didn’t know better, she could have assumed the girl was a clone. Even their outfits were the same. The only distinctions Adora could pick out were the fact that the smaller girl wore blue, both her eyes were the same golden yellow, and she was younger. “Who is she?”

Catra looked over her shoulder at the child’s nervous face and her expression softened with affection. “That’s just Baal. She’s like an apprentice.”

“ _Like_ an apprentice?”

Catra shrugged. “Okay, so she _is_ an apprentice. I’m covering for her dad. He couldn’t leave…that one place.”

Adora sighed. “Catra, you just gave me more questions than answers.”

“Choose better questions.” The feline shrugged. “My turn. Do you know who Entrapta and Scorpia are?”

Adora blinked in surprise. “I know of them, but I don’t know them personally. Do you know them?”

Catra’s mouth drew into a line, and she rubbed at her wrists with disconcertion. “Yeah…yeah, I did.” All at once, her expression changed, and she stared at Adora emphatically. “Do you know what happened to them?”

“I don’t,” she replied but filed away Catra's curious interest for later. “They defected before I woke up.”

“Woke up?”

Adora frowned. “My coma? The one you put me in?”

“I didn’t put you in any coma.”

“Oh yeah? Is that something they lied to me about too?”

Adora’s voice was bitingly sarcastic, but Catra just scoffed. “Duh, obviously.”

“Well, since you seem to know so much about what happened that year, then why don’t you tell me?”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

“Well, I _woul_ d have.” Adora waved her hands, tinged red from the binds that still held them together. “But I’m not sure now.”

Catra’s ears pressed down on her head, finally showing some regret for her actions. “Yeah, I guess I could have done this different.”

Adora grit her teeth, her face flushing the same angry red as her hands. “You think? Hordak’s tits, Catra!” She exclaimed. “This is so messed up. Do you know what kind of pressure I’ve been under? I question every single person around me because I know that even if they wanted to tell me the truth, they can’t. Then my best friend shows up after all these years offering to tell me what I’ve been missing, and the first thing she does is drug me.”

“Yeah, I reaaaaally could have played this better.”

“Yes!” Adora’s nose flared and sweat beaded her forehead, generated from all her angry energy. She glared down at Catra, her eyes threatening bodily harm as Catra sheepishly fidgeted under her gaze. After a moment, Adora took a deep breath, steadying herself. “So, you _obviously_ don’t trust me. Why did you come for me if you thought I wouldn’t trust you either?”

Catra lightly sunk her fangs into her lower lip.

Adora felt her body stiffen. _I guess five years isn’t as long as I thought,_ her mind sneered. Adora recognized the guilt in that one motion, and she really wished she didn’t. “Oh my gods…oh my GODS. You weren’t here for me at all! You were here for the two defectors!”

Catra raised her hands in protest. “To be fair, I had no clue what I was going to find when I went back to the Fright Zone. I had no idea you were still there. I thought you were in Castle Bright Moon.”

“Why would _I_ be in Castle Bright Moon?”

“I told you. A lot happened during that one year.”

Adora’s tone and pitch were steadily rising. She still had quite a few more words to throw when Baal’s panicked voice rose above their impending altercation.

“Um…Catra…can you put a hold on that for a sec? Something’s happening.”

The two looked up.

The skiff’s altitude had dropped, and its speed had decreased considerably. Catra automatically ran to the fuel gauge. “It shouldn’t be empty already.”

“We drain all our skiffs unless they're scheduled to be driven,” Adora stated. “They implemented the rule after Force Captain Scorpia and Princess Entrapta left, something you would have known if you hadn’t _DRUGGED_ ME!”

“I’M SORRY, OKAY?!”

“CAN YOU GUYS NOT RIGHT NOW!”

Catra pulled on the rudder, roughly dropping them on a convenient clearing. They gripped the sides of the vehicle tightly, miraculously staying on deck.

The three stared at each other, breathing heavily.

“Well,” Catra said, breaking their speechless stupor, “Looks like we’re walking to Bright Moon.”

~

Catra had guffawed so hard; her chair clattered to the ground when she leaned too far back. It didn’t even bother her that her back thudded against the cold ground as she grasped her convulsing stomach. It was a show. It was undeniably a show, but she wanted to get a point across.

“I’m not going to become one of your dumb warriors,” she stated, grinning a malicious smile as she knelt on the ground.

Catra leveled a stern look in his direction. His eyes were just as sharp but for a different reason. While Catra tried to assert her strong defenses, Coons searched for a weakness, a crack in her walls. It was familiar to Catra even if her opponent was new. The challenge was still the same, and she wasn’t going to lose. Those cool blues met her head on.

And then it was over.

Coons shrugged and started on his slice of salmon. “Okay,” he responded through a mouth full of food.

Pantina shot him a glare that went ignored while Baal’s confused face tried to puzzle out the silent showdown between Catra and her father.

“Okay?” Catra asked.

“Okay.” Coons nodded. “You don’t want to be a warrior. I accept that.”

Catra raised a brow. _That was easy. Too easy_ . She crossed her arms in thought, her brows furrowed. _Nothing is ever this easy_. “Glad to hear.” Her voice didn’t mimic her words, and Pantina looked at her with a silent question.

Coons just continued eating in a manner far less dignified than what she expected from royalty. Catra’s suspicious gaze didn’t leave him for a long time, even when he tilted the contents of the rice into his mouth like he was chugging an energy drink after a midnight shift.

“Right…” Catra turned towards Pantina. “So, where is this secret city?”

Coons put down his bowl. “About a mile or so—.”

“—away from this hut. Yeah, I get it. I meant what direction.”

Pantina raised a brow. “Why? You aren’t thinking of going there this moment, are you?”

“If I said that I wasn’t, are you going to tell me?”

The perturbed matriarch crossed her arms. “You’re a funny one aren’t you,” she said, her voice flat as a Force Captain Weekly Report. “If you insist on doing something, you can wash the dishes when we’re done. Consider it payment for your stay.”

Catra released a low growl, her shoulders hunched aggressively. Pantina glowered until Catra huffed away, slamming the door behind her.

Pantina’s postured immediately slumped. Baal chewed on her food, innocent eyes wide as she stared at Pantina. The woman gave her child a meaningful look, filled with exasperation. “Baal, I forbid you from becoming a teenager.”

Coons chuckled, and Pantina rounded on him with fire in her eyes. “Did you really have to bring this up so soon? You’ve just given her more reason to drive herself further into the ground.”

Coons shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. She’s a fighter, so naturally, she was going to fight.”

“If you knew that, you shouldn’t have come here! She’s obviously hurting, Coons.”

The massive man’s face crinkled in annoyance. “I just wanted to know what kind of character wandered into our town. I was worried. Is that so bad?”

“You didn’t seem worried when you were telling her everything about our history. I don’t believe a single one of your lies.”

The two didn’t notice Baal wander away, following the angry teen to the guest room.

“Are they always that loud?”

Baal shrugged. “Only if they’re together too long.” Baal’s long tail found its way back into her hands. The child began wringing it as if she remembered that she was supposed to be nervous around Catra.

Catra rolled her eyes. “What is it this time?”

Baal puckered her lips in contemplation, going through the same motions of courage building as before, and Catra wondered if this was going to be a regular thing with the child. If so, she didn’t know how long she’d have the patience for it — however, this time she forced herself to wait, until Baal breathed in a long breath.

“Can you tell me about it?” She began, “what’s it like over there?”

 _Always with the questions,_ Catra thought. She was nearing her limit with this family, and her head was beginning to hurt from tension in her shoulders. She didn’t realize how the morning had put her on edge. It wasn’t even noon, and she already felt like she was going to pass out. She was sure only part of that was because of her healing injuries.

Catra closed her eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at the muscle that strained on her shoulder. “Honestly kid, it sucks.” Catra swung her arm around and heard a satisfying crack of bone. “Why are you asking?”

“I just wanted to know…”

“Let me guess. You want to know about it because one day, you’re planning to follow daddy’s footsteps and become a big bad warrior.”

Baal blinked in surprise, amazed that Catra had seen through her intentions so accurately. “How did you know?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve read books more difficult than you.” Baal tilted her head curiously, and Catra flashed her a smirk. “You should give up on that dream. The place where I’m from would eat you up and spit you out. I doubt you’ll even last two seconds.”

“That’s not true. I’m a magicat, and the warriors of Solaria are the best fighters in all of Etheria.” Catra noticed the shift in Baal’s posture, no longer cowering in her presence. Her back was ramrod straight, and her eyes were ablaze with conviction, sharp with a challenge.

Catra much preferred that look on the child, but she still felt the acidic compulsion to perturb and fluster bubbling in her guts, the quest to seize the upper hand and unbalance the challenger. “Oh, yeah? How old are you?”

Baal drew back in suspicion. “Eight.”

“Eight? And I bet you still haven’t gotten into a single battle. Do you even know how to kick without falling on your face?”

Baal’s lips pressed into a thin line, and her tail whipped behind her, lashing at the air at irregular intervals.

“When I was 8, I was already getting my face bashed in with staffs and sparring swords, and anything less than a broken bone didn’t get you out of practice either. You think you wanna go to a place that raises killers like that?”

Baal didn’t respond for a long minute, choosing to stare at Catra and she felt a strange sense of deja vu. _She’s definitely Coon’s kid._

“You’re a liar,” Baal finally concluded.

It took Catra aback at exactly how certain the child sounded. “Oh, yeah?”

“If your home was that bad, why would you want to go back?” She asked.

Catra glared, exposing her teeth in a feral show of intimidation. Baal stood her ground, her tiny jaw set and her fist balled.

“It’s my home, you little rugrat. What else am I supposed to do? Of course, I’m going to go back.”

Baal crossed her arms, and Catra looked away.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Sounds like _you_ don’t understand.”

Catra’s eyes widened before she narrowed them. “Just get out of here before I toss you out.”

Baal’s tail bristled, and she let out a hiss before scampering out, slamming the door behind her.

Catra slammed her body on the hard bed and grumbled. “That cheeky little fleabag. Who does she think she is? Saying I don’t understand. She doesn’t understand, and she never will.” Baal grew up in a nice home with loving parents in a place that nurtured her. Baal couldn’t even begin to imagine!

The Fright Zone was all she had, and she made it something of her own. Sure, she had to claw her way up the ranks for any kind of approval from anyone, and everyone around her skewed the rules to put her at a disadvantage, to bring her down, to humiliate her, but she _still_ showed them. She was a fighter. She was a force that no one messed with. Not the stupid Rebellion, not Shadow Weaver, not even Adora. She was her own person, and she pulled herself up the ranks to be Hordak’s second. The youngest second. The most _accomplished_ second. She did that. The Fright Zone had practically been hers.

_And in the end, where did it get you?_

Catra grit her teeth, her head hurt.

_You must have known it was only a matter of time before Lord Hordak realized what a worthless waste you are. This really shouldn’t have surprised you._

“Shut up.” Catra rapped at her forehead, noticing for the first time that her headpiece was gone.

_You just keep losing everything, don’t you?_

“Ugh.” Catra shoved her face into her pillow until it was hard to breathe, and she remembered the feeling of Hordak’s machine, sucking the life out of her body.

_This was a test, and you failed._

“UGH! I’ve had it with this.”

Jumping out of her window, she ran to the base of a tall tree, its branches extending into the sky, far above her reach. The nearest branch was at least 15 feet in the air, but Catra didn’t care. She drew out her claws and began gouging handholds into its bark, getting winded much faster than she would have liked. Still, she kept climbing. The burning in her muscles helped distract her from the voices that ridiculed her even now.

_Yes, run away. The only thing you’re good at._

Catra heard a particularly vicious whisper, and she felt her leg slip from a branch.

She yelped as gravity caused her stomach to jump into her throat.

“Oh, careful, kitten!”

Catra opened her blue eye to see blonde hair and blue eyes. “Of course.” she deadpanned.

“So angry,” Coons commented, “What are you doing anyway? Pantina will be very upset when she finds you swinging up here.”

He gently pulled her up until they stood on a large branch together, side by side.

“I couldn’t care less what Pantina wants,” she snapped.

“Are you upset by your conversation with Baal? We heard your argument.”

“I’m surprised, considering you guys were wrapped up in your own fight just a second ago.”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Yes, well. I apologize for that. Pantina is a wonderful woman, but we often see from different perspectives.”

“Cool story. You can leave now. I don’t need another history lesson.” Catra made to leap onto a higher branch when she felt a light yank on the back of her shirt, bringing her back to Coon’s branch.

“I don’t think so, young miss.” His voice had adopted a stern growl, and Catra noticed how his friendly face had gotten severe. “We’ve been as understanding as we can be with you, but your attitude is starting to drain my patience.”

Catra countered with a growl of her own and shoved her face an inch from Coons. “If you wanna go, I’ll be happy to take you on, old man.”

Catra felt his heavy breathing and she could see how his nostrils flared with every hot breath. She smiled in satisfaction, taking a perverse pleasure in getting under his skin. After a moment, Coons seemed to get himself under control, and his expression became impassive. “I admire your Blood Fire, but even I can see that you can’t control it. There’s no way you’ll win against me.”

Catra held her self for a moment, blinking in confusion before throwing up her arms. “I don’t know what that is.” Coon’s opened his mouth to respond when Catra cut him off. “No! I don’t care. Just…” She huffed. “I just wanna punch something, and your face is a great substitute for someone I really wanna hit.”

He placed a hand on his face, rubbing his chin in thought. “Oh, I see. I remind you of someone.”

“You talk just about as much as she does.” Catra struck towards him, her claws ready to tear into his pretty-boy face, but to her surprise, he disappeared. She spun around, and there he was again, right behind her. _Holy…he’s fast._

“Pantina’s going to throw a fit, but if it will make you feel better, I’ll gladly spar with you.”

“I don’t want to spar,” she sneered, “I _want_ to rip your face off.”

Coons chuckled, smirking at her irate expression. “Well, I’ll give you the opportunity, on one condition.”

Catra crossed her arms. “I’m not joining your stupid training camp.”

“Well, I only ask you be gentle with Baal. She’s just a child, and she doesn’t know better.”

Catra’s face scrunched with discomfort. “I have to warn you; I hate kids. And most people.”

“I know,” Coons replied simply.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll be nice to your little brat, but that’s only _if_ you win. When I win, you take me to Solaris as soon as we’re done.”

Coons nodded his assent and began making his way back down to the forest floor. He kept his hands behind his back, as if he was taking a stroll along a river bank, rather than scaling down a tree that had the same radius has his ex-wife’s hut, while Catra kept feeling new splinters on the palms of her hands. It only served to enrage her more. By the time she tumbled the last 15 feet, she was livid and ready to draw blood.

She gave only a feral growl as a warning before she was running towards the hulking man. He sidestepped her easily, twirling away, his hands still easily clasped behind his back. “Your anger is getting the best of you. Tame your fire, lest it scorches your efforts as well.”

“Shut up! I didn’t ask.” She threw herself towards him, and he ducked, allowing her to pass overhead. Catra tumbled to the ground, arms out, but even in her weakest state, she was still agile enough to reverse her direction and throw out a half hazard kick. Coons finally had to use his hands to block her, and he couldn’t help but smile in approval.

“Your skill is truly impressive.”

“I said SHUT UP! What is up with you and talking. Is that why Pantina left you?”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Going for the heart, I see. You’re a dirty fighter.”

Catra released a jeering bark of laughter. “Dirty fighting? There’s no such thing. I thought you would have learned that after all your warriors got wiped out.”

The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and he looked away mournfully. Catra smirked. She took off in a sprint, her claws ready for the strike. She aimed for those pretty blue eyes and imagined them as someone else’s. She swung her body and swiped towards his head, only to have her wrist caught in midair.

Coons flashed her a look that was so cold, it burned. “I said that my patience had grown short, and you have crossed a line.” His grip tightened, and Catra had to bite back a whimper as he lifted her to his eye level. “I was going to go easy on you, but whoever raised you has done a poor job of instilling respect.”

Catra smirked, giving a look of unadulterated petulance. “Not for lack of trying, old man.”

His eyes sparked with consideration before he dropped Catra on the dirt. He began walking away, much to Catra’s confusion.

A wave of relief washed over the young teen. She was shaking all over, and she gritted her teeth at her own weakness. “Where are you going?” She pushed the words out of her mouth, trying to will the trembling in her voice away. “We’re not done here.” She looked up and her pupils shrunk at the sight that welcomed her.

Coons had doubled over, hunched on the ground on all fours. His muzzle was beginning to elongate and his body was slowly tripling in muscle mass, bulging out from skin that steadily grew yellow strands of fur. “No, I don’t believe we are done either.” His voice was husky and deep, and Catra could see his teeth sharpening as he talked.

Catra lifted an arm in front of her body as a subconscious defense. Her brain could barely function, too shocked to even articulate an exclamation.

Coons stalked towards her, giant paws making indents in the ground as he growled. His golden hair turned into a dusty brown framing his massive maw. He had grown almost four times the size of a regular man, and Catra saw ropey muscles shift under his hide. His tail whipped the air behind him with every step. Bright blue eyes watched her with unflappable ferocity as they continued to smolder with cold fire.

Catra gulped and curled up where she lay as Coons hovered over her. She closed her eyes and braced herself. Death had surely come for her and felt herself relax at the thought. The beast’s hot breath tickled the peach fuzz on her arm, and tiny drops of liquid fell from her eyes.

With a snap, the beast clamped his teeth on the back of her collar and lifted her off of the ground. Her feet dangled uselessly in the air, and she had to blink several times to realize that her heart was still furiously beating in her chest. It took about half that time for the anger to register as she was towed along like a young kitten by the scruff of its neck.

“Hey! Get off me, old man!” She yelled, squirming between his teeth. “Is this how you warriors act? No wonder you all died! You’re all idiots!” Coons didn’t seem to be paying her any mind, just letting her spew all sorts of expletives as he marched them both back to the hut, Catra’s taunts becoming progressively childish as he went. “You salmon breath! You’re messing up my clothes. You old fart, get off of me!”

Finally, he deposited her on the hut’s doorstep without ceremony, and she turned back to hiss. A warning rumble echoed from deep in his throat, and Catra quieted down into a silent brooding.

Pantina was at the door in seconds, her eyes confused by the sight. “Goodness, what happened? Why are you both so filthy?”

The beast grunted, and they all waited for a moment until he was back into his normal form. “Catra was just going to do the dishes as you asked, and she’s graciously offered to take care of Baal for the evening.”

“Has she?” Pantina raised a suspicious brow as the teen looked back at Coons, staring murderous daggers in his direction.

“Yes, she has.” He cowed her easily with a hard look, and the teen went back to her silent brooding.

Pantina looked between Coons and Catra before she shrugged. She crouched down at the teen, who’s eyes stayed on the ground. Pantina gently lifted her chin so they could look at each other. “Well, I’ve got it started. Come find me when you’re done, and we’ll take care of those new injuries, alright?”

Catra blushed as she nodded, her lips drawn shut, and she got up to limp inside the hut.

Pantina watched her go before crossing her arms, raising a brow at Coons.

The man shrugged. “Teenagers.”

Pantina just shook her head. It was hard to be stern when she agreed wholeheartedly.

~

Catra walked several paces in front of Baal and Adora, and Adora knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that she never seemed to look back. Her shoulders were squared as she trekked forward in the name of “clearing the way, just in case there’s something up ahead.”

Adora still rolled her eyes at the excuse, heavily stomping her way over boulders and stray shrubbery. Her hands were still tied in front of her, making her balance shaky, and the slow simmer of her frustration caused her eyes and nose to ache with held back tears.

She hardly noticed Baal’s concerned face peering up at her from behind the long black fringes of her hair. “Ummm…are you okay?”

Adora sniffed angrily. “I’m _great_ ,” she snapped. “I only found out my best friend is using me as some kind of bargaining chip just when I thought I could finally trust someone. Why wouldn’t I just be peachy.” Adora rounded her glare onto the 12-year-old before she realized that Baal was only, well, 12 years old. She flinched at the achingly innocent, faultless stare, but Baal didn’t seem disturbed by the undue anger directed at her. After years of being with Catra, she was probably used to it and brushed it off as casually as a stray leaf.

Baal looked ahead, ducking under a low hanging branch that smacked Adora in the face. Baal waited for Adora to recover before matching her stride once again. “That wasn’t what she wanted to do. I think she just didn't know what else to do.”

Adora scoffed as she accidentally hitched her boot on an exposed tree root.

Baal offered her an arm, catching her fall. “I’m just saying that the only one that really has the whole picture is Catra.”

“Yeah, and she’s not exactly helping fill in the gaps.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

Adora didn’t have a response for that. It was hard to imagine an event that produced such a disparity in trust between them. They had always been close—two kids that dreamed of taking the world by storm—and the grandiose tale of Catra defecting had always felt wrong. Adora had neatly filed everything away as Shadow Weaver’s manipulations. She’d always searched for opportunities to tear the two of them apart, and Catra’s disappearance would have been a perfect opportunity.

But, she still felt groggy from the drug they’d injected in her. Her hands were sore from lack of blood flow. Her feet hurt because she couldn’t tell them that all the skiffs needed to be fueled before they left. And any one of those alone was damning in a way Adora never wanted to consider.

“I mean, you know how she is,” Baal continued, pulling Adora out of her contemplation. The girl flashed Adora a wicked smile. “She’s pretty dumb.”

Adora’s brow furrowed. “Catra’s a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.” Unbidden, memories started to flow back, contradicting her statement. “Not usually anyway.”

“Only when she’s emotional.” Baal’s fangs glimmered under a light beam that passed through the tree cover. “Probably why she tries not to care about anything.”

Adora paused at the accuracy of the statement. “You’re scary smart for someone your age.”

“Catra once said my dad talked like a fortune cookie. I think it’s in my blood.”

Absently, Adora nodded. Her emotions mixed like a terrible cocktail, bubbling in her stomach, and her bitter ruminations began crawling their way back inside her head.

"Watch out," Baal warned, moving a hanging vine away from Adora's face, even if her shorter height meant she had to jump for it.

"Oh, thanks."

Baal smiled and Adora's eyes lingered on her for a moment. She had a slight hop to each step, and her eyes roamed her surroundings in curiosity, alert but excited.

Adora remembered when that look was a staple of her every day. Whether it was in the Fright Zone, exploring the nooks and crannies she and Catra were never allowed into or learning new battle maneuvers against each other. It was the only flavor of adventure they knew, a sample of what may have been outside the Fright Zone. It was a silent reminder; she never used to question everything. She never used to find everything so tricky. There was a time she was just as easily distracted and just as easily pleased.

So, Adora pretended. For a little bit, Adora allowed herself to think of other things. She smiled back at Baal. "What's a fortune cookie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone that left their support in the comment section. It means a lot to know that you enjoy the work that I do. Let me know what I can do to improve. 
> 
> And I also want to praise my two awesome editors, eatingmarshmellowswithchopsticks and nny11writers. They really changed the game for this chapter.
> 
> You guys are awesome.
> 
> P.S. The art is from a basic land card that I can't find the information for. If someone finds it, I'd love to give more credit to this awesome work. Seriously, check out the Magic: The Gathering artwork. There are some really divine ones out there.


	5. Magical Misadventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo few things...
> 
> 1\. I know I took forever. I apologize and I have no excuses.  
> 2\. Thank you again to Nyy11 for being the fantastic person that she is.
> 
> I know this took forever and it wasn't even the fact that it wasn't edited. I just wanted to write the other chapter down before I posted it. For some reason, I can't seem to get it down. I know what I want it to look like, so here's to fingers crossed the next chapter will come up soon.

Catra groaned as she stretched, bending her arm in a way that lanced a jolt of pain across her muscles. Though she would never admit to it, she was starting to think that Pantina’s enraged conniption was warranted. She really had pushed herself past her limit. Her body felt heavy and fatigue crashed into her with the vigor of a winged unicorn.

She really wanted a noontime nap; jump onto the roof of the hut and soak in the rays of the sun while her body recuperated. Unluckily for her, it wasn’t in the cards. It should have been easy to drift into the pleasant embrace of unconsciousness, but the thoughts that she’d kept away with her abrasive deflections paraded through her brain like a battalion of trigger-happy cadets, each one fully equipped with cannons and boxes of unclipped grenades.

What had she done wrong? Why did they strand her here? Did anyone care that she was gone? 

She figured Scorpia would, and maybe, in the deeper recesses of Entrapta’s brain—maybe—she would care too. (How were those idiots doing?) Adora surely would, but that small ounce of certainty was laced with the question of would she be worried or relieved? What about the soldiers that were under her command? (How were they doing?) Who would take her place? Would they keep her reforms or would they erase that part of her too?

Even if it was only a year, Catra had still worked her tail off to ensure changes were made in the treatment of their forces; they deserved better food, scheduled breaks, quality clothing, and access to leisure activities. The Horde needed happier soldiers in general.

With a sigh, Catra uncurled and flipped to her back.

The officers and enlisted alike had heckled her plans. “She’ll make our forces weak.” They said. “She’ll be the downfall of the Horde.” Well, it only took a single battle for them to shut their mouths. Did no one else figure out that happy soldiers were loyal soldiers? And loyal soldiers were motivated soldiers? And she knew better than anyone that one motivated cadet could overcome an armada of uninspired elite.

Of course they hadn’t. It was paradoxical to treat someone softly and expect them to come out tougher.

Idiots.

They really needed to implement some basic people skills training or something. One of the most useful things she’d learned was that people sometimes operated in paradoxes. All she had to do was look at her and Adora. One was the golden girl loved by her peers and mentors, praised on a pedestal higher than Dryl’s mountain range only to have her leave for the other side. Then there was Catra, the detested runt, no better than a persistent cockroach beneath their heels only for her to bring them closer to ultimate conquest than anyone else before.

And yet they still threw me away.

Catra finally sat up.

Yes, people operated in paradoxes.

The sleeves fell again, rubbing uncomfortably on her wrist. She’s always hated long sleeves and the strange coloring only served to remind her she wasn’t home.

What had she done wrong? Why did they strand her here?

She was thinking in circles and it was slowly driving her insane.

Before she could spiral any further, her name was called by a familiar masculine voice, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed. She settled for a huff before hopping down from her perch, landing gracefully until the pain caused her to collapse on the ground.

Pantina only released a long-suffering sigh. “I guess you were right, Coons,” she stated as she reached down towards Catra.

The teen winced at her throbbing ankle. With Pantina’s help, she only wobbled for a bit before she regained her balance. “Right about what?”

The woman patted her down and brushed stray pebbles that dusted her shirt. “I thought I should go for a run to the market. It seems that my medical supplies will drain faster than I anticipated.”

A light blush peppered Catra’s cheeks with genuine chagrin.

Coons just laughed with a howl and gave the teen a solid thwack on her back. Catra grunted as the wind left her lungs. “Hahaha! Children will be children.”

“I’m not a child,” Catra protested.

“Of course dear.” The woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Now, we should only be gone for a few hours. Baal will be practicing her music, so please don’t mind the noise and do try to rest. There are snacks in the fridge just in case you get hungry before we return.”

“Wait, you guys are going to a market? Take me with you!” Maybe there was someone that could direct her to a ship or a shipwright that she could coarse into making a boat for her.

Pantina’s face scrunched like she’d bitten into a sour apple. “I would. In fact, I was going to go in the next few days after you’ve had some rest, but it seems as if you’re keen on running yourself into the ground and I’d hate to run out of medical supplies.”

“But I’m fine. I’ve had worse when I was Baal’s age.”

Pantina lightly poked at the teen’s ribcage. Catra jumped, an unexpected jolt going through her torso. The matriarch crossed her arms.

Catra tried to fight through a grimace and failed. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

Pantina exchanged a glance with Coons and the man smirked. With an elegant motion, he scooped the woman up in his arms. “If you think you can keep up, you’re free to tag along. However, I advise that you stay close. I’d hate for you to get lost. The island is much bigger than you’d expect.” With a wink, Coon’s became engulfed in a bright orange light and was gone with a gust of wind. He was a literal blur as he crested over the mountain, leaving Catra before she had a chance to blink.

“Queen Angella’s bouncing boobs,” she cursed, “I hate magic users.”

“Bouncing boobs?”

Catra jumped out of her skin when Baal was suddenly by her side, hands clasped behind her back. “Gods, kid. Make some noise, would you?”

Baal looked at her with a blank expression.

“And don’t let Pantina hear you say that.”

“Why?”

Catra crossed her arms and shoved her face inches from Baal’s. “Because I said so, small fry. Now beat it.”

The child’s face darkened and she pouted. She flicked her tail in Catra’s direction, spun on her heel and made her way to the back of the hut, the opposite direction from where Pantina and Coons had left.

Catra’s ears flickered with interest as she recalled Pantina’s words from earlier. Baal was going to practice music, which was a novel concept for the teenager. Scorpia and Entrapta had introduced her to music when she was researching reforms, but having to “practice” the racket they cooked up was not something that crossed her mind. Before that horrifying show, the closest the Horde would allow were cadences designed mostly to keep the troops in step, a monotone noise to prevent them from tripping over each other.

She stared at the empty space where Baal had been moments ago and shrugged. She didn’t have anything better to do and watching Baal was something that could keep her mind occupied. Not to mention, it would probably be less strenuous than anything else Catra could think of. Win/win for all.

Catra pulled the hut’s door open, sauntering through the dining room and kitchen area. The subtle smell from their earlier meal still lingered in the air despite the fresh breeze that circled through the open windows. Daylight warmed the creaky floorboards and it felt nice on Catra’s bare feet as she made her way to her borrowed room. At the corner of the house, it was situated in the best possible place for inconspicuous spying.

Catra sat on her bed, and it still gave her an unobscured view of Baal’s cross-legged position in the middle of the field. Her eyes were closed as her stray locks moved with the breeze. Her tail swished behind her like a silent conductor, which was apt because that was the only sound that she produced. A minute passed, and when Catra still didn’t see any changes, she sighed. I expected nothing, and somehow, I’m still disappointed.

Catra flopped on the mattress and bounced, disrupting the sheets underneath. It was soft and warm on her fur as she stared at the dark knots on the ceiling. It felt nice, and somehow that made it all the worse. Part of her kept wondering when the bomb was going to blow, when the shadows would start moving in, when this fairy tale world would be swept from under her feet just like every good thing in her life.

Catra pushed herself to a sitting position and made her way to the desk at the corner of the room. She decided that she would rather sit on the stiff-backed chair. She rocked the seat until only two of the legs were in contact with the floor and swung her feet on the desk.

She hated this anticipation. She needed to get back home, where everything was familiar. No outlandishly delicious food, no selflessly caring maternal figures, and no idiotically lame dad characters. Just the cold walls of the Fright Zone, where she could go back to stewing and hissing. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about things being taken away from her. At least there, things made sense.

A ball of light drifted in Catra’s vision, meandering and slow, like a speck of dust, but it glowed a vibrant orange.

With a yelp, the feline-girl jerked back. She flipped and her feet flew in the air as the chair slipped from under her.

The light ball was about the size of her fingernail, and it reminded her a bit like the motes of light from the Whispering Woods. It pulsed with energy, and when Catra focused a little longer, she could almost hear a soft tinging of a chime or a bell. Another light ball fluttered close. The two circled around each other like fish in a small pond. A third and a fourth drifted with the other two until Catra could hear the different pitches that seemed to echo and play in a rhythmic series of three before it paused for a beat and repeated.

Slowly, never leaving the trail of lights that steadily poured from outside, Catra made her way back to the open window. The wind had picked up, making the curtains flutter against its current. Baal seemed to be in the center of the strange maelstrom, harmonizing with the whistling winds and twinkling lights. She waved her hands through the spiraling symphony. The lights followed her movements with diligence and wrapped around her like a protective cocoon.

Catra’s jaw dropped as she watched. Her ears rang with the sweet melody as Baal summoned the elements into a crescendo. This was a completely different experience from what Scorpia and Entrapta had meshed together. The fact that it sounded good—heavenly if she was honest—was not even the biggest difference.

“You can do magic too?” Catra screamed from across the field, all thoughts of subtle eavesdropping gone from her mind. She was both indignant and in slight disbelief that a six year old could accomplish something that she couldn’t.

Baal’s song stopped like the very air itself had gotten whiplash. The orange balls coalesced and popped with an obnoxious reverb.

Baal bared her teeth as she pawed at her ears. “Ow!”

Catra was jogging over in an instant. “Whoa, you okay?”

Baal glared as she looked up.

“Don’t give me that look. How was I supposed to know your sound bubble would implode on itself?”

Baal groused under her breath and looked away, huffing as she turned up her nose.

Catra sighed and sat next to her. “Come on. Don’t be mad.”

Baal remained silent.

“I’ll tell you Fright Zone stories.”

Baal’s ears twitched and snuck a glance at the teen. Catra was smirking at her. “I have one where my team blew up an entire building…”

Grudgingly, Baal finally turned, the curiosity barely hidden under a slathering of annoyance. Catra laughed at her puffed out cheeks.

“Answer me a question first. Can everyone here do magic, or are you and your old man just a special case?”

Baal shook her head. “Well, not everyone, but a lot of people can use magic.”

“And, is there something different about the people who can’t use magic?”

Baal shrugged. “Dad said it was just because they were halflings and there was nothing wrong with that. They have one magicat mom or dad, and they have one not magicat mom or dad. A magicat is still a magicat whether they have magic or not.”

“Um…okay.” The words sounded rehearsed, or at least repeated many times. “And when do magicats that can use magic usually start doing spells and stuff?”

“Most magicats start doing magic before they can walk, usually.” Baal held up her hand and produced an orange bubble. It sang with a steady flawless note.

Catra rolled her jaw. Well, it was basic two and two. Catra was either a really late magic user, or a halfling without the gifts. Some part of her was slightly disappointed that she couldn’t learn the things Coons had shown her, but it wasn’t like she’d invested too much time into it. But still… just in case... “How do you do that?” She demanded.

Baal scratched her head, her brows creating a deep groove on her forehead while her face scrunched up in concentration. “Ummmmmmmmmm…”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself. Just let me see you do it one more time.”

Baal nodded and took a deep breath. She began humming a simple tune with long winding notes as she swayed her head back and forth. A serene smile came over her face as her whole body became outlined in orange. The balls of light slowly came back, rising from the ground like steam from a lake. They meandered together into little spires that mingled above Baal’s head. Catra sat stiffly and watched with rapt attention. With a final iteration of Baal’s melody, the circling lights solidified into a point, following Baal’s finger and disappearing with a whisper of bells.

Catra released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and nodded. “Okay, how do I do that with my voice?”

Baal pursed her lips. “You kind of just…do it…”

“You’re a remarkable help, kid.” Catra deadpanned.

Baal smiled. “Thank you.”

“Ugh,” Catra groused. “Sure…” With a deep breath, Catra steeled herself, opened her mouth and began to sing. “LAAALAAAAlaaaalllLAAAAAaaaaaLLLLaaaAAAALLAllaa.”

Baal covered her mouth with her hands, trying to contain the giggles that rattled out of her in waves.

“Shut up! Not like I’ve ever sung before.”

Baal just nodded, her hands still firmly over her face. She muffled something that might have been an apology and finally revealed the smile that plastered across her face. Catra watched as Baal took a deep breath and produced a single crisp note.

Catra plopped on her butt, taking a seat and did her best to imitate the note. It produced something shaky and rough, but it was still leagues better than what she tried before. Baal produced another note at a different pitch. Catra copied it, and they kept going until Catra could perfectly imitate the melodic line in perfect sync.

Catra grinned. “Awesome! Now how do I get those orange bubble things?”

Baal’s eyes only half glazed over before Catra sighed. “Let me guess. You don’t actually know?” The ensuing silence was the only response Catra needed. “Are you telling me that your dad is a master at this thing and he didn’t tell you about your own magic? Jeez, that doesn’t make any sense. And I thought you guys were short on warriors.”

“We are, and they started teaching Leo when he was three, but papa said he couldn’t teach me.”

Catra raised a brow. “Why?”

“Mama doesn’t want me to say, but uncle doesn’t want me to learn, so Papa doesn’t teach. It’s also why we live so far away from Solaris.”

Catra felt a little awkward. She wasn’t exactly the most emotionally equipped to comfort the slumped child, and she felt uneasy about the knowledge Baal had carelessly revealed.

Catra flicked her tail, lightly batting at Baal’s ear. “Hey listen, let’s not tell your parents that you just said all that stuff, okay?”

“Like Queen Angella’s b--?”

“Yes! Exactly. Both of those. Don’t talk about it.”

Baal slumped. “Okay.”

“Why do you want to be a warrior anyway? What does that even mean?”

Baal peaked up at Catra through the stray fringes of her hair. “I want to be like my dad.”

“You don’t like making sense?”

“No, I want to learn how to be stronger!”

“For what? You guys are separated from the war and the only people that come here use it as a dumping ground for ex-Horde soldiers either dead or halfway there.” She ended up biting the end with more force then she needed, almost missing the grimace that wracked Baal’s body.

“Yeah, we don’t worry about the stuff outside, but it’s still useful...just in case.” Baal trailed off, her gaze a million miles too far away.

Catra just shook her head. “Whatever, kid.”

Baal brought herself back and stared at Catra expectantly.

“What?”

“You were going to tell me Fright Zone stories.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “One time, we blew up a building. The end.”

Baal growled a low, doleful growl that made Catra’s nerves twitch. She made the mistake of looking at the wide-eyed pout, pupils large as saucers.

“Okay, fine.” She leaned in conspiratorially and smirked. “Not even my best friend knew about this. She was away on some special officer training program. Which is probably why Lonnie and I were getting along that week. Now, Adora and I got up to some pretty crazy things, but when I was with Lonnie, well, let’s just say the Horde was lucky we hated each other’s guts most of the time.” Catra chuckled. “I never told her, and it doesn’t really matter anymore, but she was the most solid cadet in our division, maybe in the whole Junior Trainee Battalion. Wasn’t the strongest or the smartest, but she was even. I think I was the only person that could ruffle her feathers. I should have made her a Force Captain when I was in charge.”

Baal blinked in confusion, her brows knitting at the unfamiliar terminology and Catra just flashed her a lopsided smile. The teen lifted a hand to ruffle the errant locks on Baal’s head.

“Don’t think too hard. Anyway, one thing about Horde Cadets is they’re really competitive, especially if they think they’re good at something. If they even think you’re looking down on them, you can get them to do almost anything. Well, some EOD officers left their bags, and I mean a whole heck load of bags, in our sector. Our brother squadron made a bet on who could get the most.”

“So?”

“Kid, EOD stands for explosive ordnance disposal. There were bombs in the bags.”

Baal’s pupils ballooned and twinkled.

“Exactly. Between me, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio, and the fact that Adora wasn’t there to stop us, we had no fear about grabbing handfuls and moving them to the abandoned building just outside sector 7. We even stole a rover. It was like we were possessed or something. We should have been scared, I’m sure we were but somehow that just made everything so much more fun. And then, Kyle ended up tripping. Somehow, on the way down, he activated one of them. I still don’t know how he managed that.”

“Oh no.”

“Yep. We crashed the rover trying to get out of there like bats from hell. We didn’t even look back when the whole thing lit the sky. Thank the gods Shadow Weaver never found out it was us. I would have been dead a long time ago.”

Baal’s mouth was locked in a little “o” with an expression that Catra only recognized from a distance.

“That was awesome! Do you have more stories?” Baal was practically on top of her then, hurting Catra’s tender body.

The teen still couldn’t help but release the slightest of smiles. “Let me save some for next time. We should probably head back anyway. It’s dark.”

“Awww,” Baal whined, but obediently hopped off. She walked a few paces before looking back, waiting for Catra to follow.

Catra just shooed her off, needing a moment to herself. Baal seemed to get the message, but she still couldn’t help the reluctance as she turned around. Her eyes still shimmered with admiration.

Admiration for Catra.

The teen cradled herself in her arms. She needed to get away soon before it became too hard to get away.

~

Nightfall was coming faster than Adora had expected. Baal was very good at making the hours fly as they walked and Adora found herself enjoying the young magicat’s company. It was almost mystical how comfortable it was to shoot the breeze with personal anecdotes. Baal was quick to smile and she listened well. From how Catra used to spend all her time playing one prank or another to how Lieutenant Colonel Grizzlor was an idiot who couldn’t command a battalion to save his life, she seemed to pay just the right amount of acknowledgment. It made the words tumble out like cotton from a new pillow.

Of course, the downside was that Adora had to constantly bite her tongue, an ease that was a double-edged sword, leaving the older woman with equal parts respect and apprehension. She could easily see Baal as an unstoppable force in an interrogation room. One moment Adora was spell-bound with tales of a hidden warrior tribe who’s worst disciple could still demolish an entire house of bandits, and the next, she was kicking herself for revealing critical information, like names of high ranking officers and their weaknesses.

“But enough about that,” Adora prompted, her hairline dark with nervous sweat, “you were talking about the magic classes…”

“Oh, yeah. There’s only three. A lot of magicats are usually great at one, but you can never tell.”

“That’s cool,” Adora commented. “Then it must be rare to know all three.”

“Yeah. What about the Horde? Do you guys have any magic there?”

Adora shrugged. “Not really. It’s only Shadow Wea—.” Adora bit her tongue. “Can you please forget I said that.”

Baal smiled. “Okay.”

Catra had stopped, allowing them to catch up at their own pace. She had a knowing smirk on her lips and a hand that was poised on her hip. “Alright, kid. Why don’t you give Adora a break? We need to gather some wood for tonight’s fire.”

“On it!” In a second, Baal was running through the underbrush with gusto.

Catra barely had a chance to yell after her. “Don’t go too far!” But Baal was already gone. Catra sighed. “Gods, that kid’s a menace.”

Adora chuckled. “Barely a fraction of the menace you were.”

“You can’t expect that from the kid. It’s a pretty high bar. I think the only one that can come close is you.”

Adora kept her face neutral. “Hardy-har-har.”

Catra released a genial laugh, not an ounce of malice in its tone.

Adora’s face broke into a smile at the sight. She hadn’t heard that laugh in such a long time, and she relished the sound. “I missed you.”

Catra’s laughter halted in a choke before Adora realized that the admission had come from her. Her cheeks turned a vibrant shade of pink and she turned away in embarrassment. It had been a reflex. Small admissions of affection used to be so second nature, but had that changed? Adora wasn’t sure and the feeling that swept through her gut was anything but easy. Adora dared to glance at her old friend.

Catra’s mismatched eyes were soft and she scratched at her blushing cheeks. “I missed you too.”

The uneasy roiling turned into a flock of doves that fluttered in her chest. Adora felt her cheeks stretch until they hurt.

As soon as Catra caught wind of it, she huffed. “Don’t smile like that. You look stupid.”

Adora could only laugh. Some things don’t change. With a bout of playfulness, Adora gave her a shoulder check to the side. “I know you are but what am I.”

“Oh real mature, Adora.” Catra crossed her arms and lifted her nose with a grandiose act of disapproval.

It crumbled a moment later when Adora gave her another shove. “I know I am but what are you.”

Catra’s facade broke into a laughing fit as she tackled the blonde into the grass. “You’re such a dork.”

Adora kicked Catra in the gut, not in any capacity that would hurt, but the satisfying grunt as the air was knocked out of her caused a guffaw to rise from Adora’s belly.

Catra rubbed her stomach with one hand while her other beckoned the blonde closer. “Come here.”

Curiously, Adora sat up, tilting her head. In a quick motion, the bonds that held her hands together fell away. “Oh, finally letting me go? What changed?”

Catra’s ears flattened. “I was going to let you go after the skiff thing, but I had a feeling that if I let you go while you were mad, you’d start trying to hit me in the face.”

“And you would have been right.”

Catra leaned close and leveled Adora with a smooth eyebrow wiggle. “When it comes to you, I’m always right.”

Adora threw her head back in a fit of giggles. “What is that? What are you doing with your face?”

Catra leaned back with a pout. “I guess only cool people would understand.”

“It looks dumb.”

Catra grabbed a handful of grass and threw it in Adora’s face, grinning. “I know you are by what am I?”

It only spurred Adora forward, grabbing Catra by the shirt and wrestling her to the ground. Catra had expected it and laughed as she attempted to get the upper hand. They grappled with each other, Adora’s strength against Catra’s agility, like they were kids again with not a care in the world. Adora tempered her grip and Catra never brought out her claws, just playfully mushing each other’s faces and teasingly tugging each other’s hair. Adora wondered how she could think any distance would change this part of them. There was too much history, too much familiarity. They could never unlearn how to read the other, where there were openings before they were fully formed, when a feint was disguised as a careless mistake, when one needed to release before the other even tapped. They moved in sync until they were both on their backs, looking up at the darkening sky in a mess of ragged breaths. The air was steadily cooling in a layer of purple, but neither one rushed to break the comfortable repose.

For a moment, Adora realized that this was the fulfillment of all her and Catra’s childhood dreams. Together, seeing the world where there was no Shadow Weaver looking over their shoulder. Where there was no one that she needed to be perfect for and where there was no one Catra needed to prove herself to. It was just the two of them, happy. If only Adora could pretend forever.

With a sigh, the blonde lifted her weight until she was leaning on her elbow, looking at the feline with pleading eyes. “Catra, can you please, please, tell me what happened?”

Catra heaved a breath and released it through her nose, slow and controlled, before meeting Adora’s gaze. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Try?”

“That’s the thing, Adora. We were two different people, especially me. I did a lot of things that I still haven’t forgiven myself for and I shouldn’t be the one to tell you about your adventures. I wasn’t there. Even if I tried, there’s no way to say everything I need to say. I’ll just end up confusing you.”

Adora frowned, disappointed.

Unexpectedly, a calloused palm lightly caressed her cheek, tracing the line of her cheekbones with a trail of comfortable heat. “I know. You’ve probably been confused all this time and it feels like I’m dangling the answers right in front of you, but please, Adora, just a little longer. I promise.”

From anyone else, at the very least, Adora might have cringed. She never liked anyone touching her face. But maybe it was the unexpected” please” accompanied by Catra’s disarming tone, or maybe because it was Catra and the rules were never the same when it came to her, but this time, she leaned into the touch. This time, she brought one of her own hands up and ran her thumb across the bumps of Catra’s knuckles.

“You realize how insane this is, right? I’m going with a friend who I haven’t seen in years, to get memories that I’ve lost for about as long, in enemy territory?”

Catra’s mouth drew up in a lopsided grin. “Hey, I’ve got your back. What could go wrong?”

Well, there were a million things just off the top of Adora’s head, and she still wasn’t sure if she could fully trust the feline even though their earlier tussle had assuaged some of the unfamiliarity. Adora needed to remind herself that Catra was still a wild card.

Before she could voice her thoughts, as if summoned by pure karmic temptation, Baal ran headlong into the clearing with panic etched on her face. “Something’s coming.”

The two were on their feet in an instant. Catra’s ears twitched as she realized what had thrown Baal into a tizzy. “Oh, interesting.”

“Catra, what’s going on?” Adora turned and blinked in surprise.

Catra’s lips were quirked in a mischievous grin. “Looks like we’re getting a new skiff.”


End file.
